Leaving

My entire life now fits into four checked bags weighing 50 pounds each (exactly 50 lbs., I swear), a carry-on bag, and another small shoulder pack. As I recite the list of my material possessions, I realize how much stuff I still have after breaking down my apartment in Seattle a little over one month ago. As it turns out, the heavy cast iron skillet will have to wait until someone comes to visit and can haul this over for me. The skillet would probably have been difficult to explain to perplexed border officials. As it is it will be a huge relief to clear customs with all of this swag.

Although it was sunny and warm here in Chicago, I would be wearing a lot of clothes when I boarded my flight at O’Hare. A heavy shirt, a leather sport jacket, and a really heavy winter coat would weigh me down so that I could spare some extra weight in my checked baggage. This was a very complicated and technical packing job. I was leaving with everything I needed for my new life, or everything that I thought that I needed. I left behind a few boxes of books that I hope people will bring over for me. Tops among the books that I will miss is my very dog-eared Cambridge Complete Shakespeare that I’ve had since my university days.

In 24 hours I would be in a cab in Valencia, Spain looking for the apartment I had rented for the first couple of weeks. After dropping the bags off, the first stop would probably be for a café con leche. That would mark the starting point for my life in Spain. My first act of actually living in my new home, or country, or place of exile, or whatever it would turn out to be.