The List Did Something I Didn't Ask It To

I wasn't trying to make two columns. I opened the notebook because I couldn't sleep past seven and I thought, fine, I'll just write some things down. Be productive. Cross something off. But somewhere around item four I noticed the page had split itself, the left side full of things like 'figure out the storage unit situation' and 'cancel the gym membership or pause it, look into that,' and the right side with one thing on it that I'd written in smaller handwriting, like I was hoping it would be less real if it took up less space.

The right column is harder. That's the only way I know how to describe it. The left side is logistics, annoying, yes, but solvable. I can look up storage unit prices. I can call the rec center and ask Sandra about the pause policy. Those are just tasks. They'll get done. The right column is different. It has things on it that I can't Google my way out of. Things that require me to sit with a feeling long enough that the feeling actually changes, and I'm not sure I've ever done that successfully on a deadline.

mug in hand, nowhere to be.

I made coffee. I closed the notebook. I sat with the mug for a while and watched the light move across the floor the way it does on Sunday mornings when there's nowhere you have to be by any specific time. It's June now, which means the departure window isn't far enough away to feel abstract anymore. It's close enough that I keep catching myself doing small versions of goodbye, the way you run your hand along a familiar wall when you pass it, not because you're thinking about it but because some part of you is already practicing.

I'm going to add one more thing to the right column today. Not because I'm ready to figure it out, but because I think the column needs to know I'm taking it seriously. The left side can wait until Tuesday. The right side, I think I owe it a Sunday.