What we carry with us

I've graduated from college and feel oddly homeless. The hardest part is leaving the co-op, knowing I'll never see most of my housemates again. What makes it easier is the feeling that I carry parts of them with me. There's some comfort in drinking from the cup Becky threw on the potter's wheel or wearing the sweater that belonged to Max. The way I spice the dinner came from Sissi; the way I think about art came from Jenny; the way I finger the penny whistle came from Jeff. I can't know what parts of myself the others are carrying to California and Austria and New Hampshire, but I trust that I do go with them.

If we were like the seeds of a dandelion that had grown gold and big and eventually turned white, this weekend was the puff of air that sent us scattering in the wind. I feel dizzy and lost now, but we'll land in new places and fill the field with new flowers.