i've been waking up at 6:30AM for the past few mornings. this is uncharacteristic. my thoughts won't let me sleep. i think about all that i need to pack, everything that i need to get done in preparation for this trip, this move to back to texas. and then i think about everything that awaits me there - job applications, writing my dissertation, teaching ...
i feel anxious and mildly depressed. i don't want to go. this is one of my mantras. i don't want to go. when leaving austin, i didn't want to go. when leaving la feria, i didn't want to go. when leaving santa barbara, i didn't want to go. it occurs to me that it's not that i don't want to "go" to the next place; it's more that i don't want to leave the current place, the place i've made my home.
my mom and her family were migrant farm workers. every summer they would pack their things into boxes, taking only what they needed, and go to work in new mexico, arizona, and california.
it seems like a strange legacy. to be a migrant. packing my things into boxes at the end of every year. selling my belongings, taking only what i need, moving to the next place to study and teach.
in a way, it's a luxury - the freedom that i have to move from place to place; the amazing people that i meet; the beautiful things i get to see.
in another way, it's exhausting. i wish that i could stand still for a while. long enough to grow roots.
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