Ritual is necessary for us to know anything.
– Ken Kesey
I love rituals.
Today I witnessed one I hadn’t expected or had possibly even forgotten – moving in.
This wasn’t just any moving in, this was moving in for an entire city.
By design or by fate, I’m willing to wager the bulk of Boston’s collegiate population moved in to their new places today.
Coming from out of town, hopping to a new place from across town or returning home after a summer of frolicking, the emigration was everywhere.
For a little over a week, I’ve been without a home.
Not unlike many of my classmates or what appeared to be much of the Boston metro area, I was at the mercy of the Sept. 1 start to my lease when the summer’s subletters moved out and we got to move in.
Since departing my house in Philadelphia at the end of June, I’ve been living out of two suitcases. I’ve couch hopped from Philly to Springfield, IL to Los Angeles to Denver to Brookline, MA.
And, I’m done with it.
When the apartment I’d arranged before leaving the East Coast fell through when I was in California, I took to Craigslist and selected a place I’d never seen and roommates I’d never met (save for one telephone call).
Many of the moments from the next 9 months will be happy and gentle reminders of my studenthood, chances to glimpse back at experiences I haven’t focused on for a decade.
This, this moving in, couch hopping, roommate navigating, this is a piece of college life I have not missed and could have done without.
Over dinner tonight, my friend Vanessa summed it up, “I’m 30, and this is where I am.”
She’s also left her “adult” life for grad school.
I added to her statement, “And, I’ve chosen this.”
It’s late, and I’ve been helping folks move all day.
Tomorrow, I’ll be refreshed and once again excited about the adventure I’m on.
For now, I’m going to revel in this exhaustion and rawness of emotion that only moving can elicit.