Some days, my senses seem to play a larger role in life than usual. Things feel fragmented and instead of people and events, what stands out in my mind are emotions, scents, temperatures, color schemes.
Glasses fogged with raindrops blur the world and make everything insubstantial. Somehow they make me feel as though I look blurred and insubstantial to the rest of the world, too, until I wipe them off.
Juggling a McDonald’s caramel latte (better than Starbucks’, I’ve decided), a FedEx package, an ID and door key, a Walgreens bag, and a purse while holding open the Houghton door with my foot for a dad with a dolly loaded with his daughter’s things. It’s move-out day. Chaos.
Chill air, misty raindrops- wind and water are the elements of the day. Contrast: in three-ish days I will be under the Israeli sun.
Hugs. Hard ones. Prolonged. These are goodbye hugs— some for a few weeks, some for three months, some much longer. These are emotion-filled and bittersweet. And yet it hasn’t quite sunk in that I won’t be seeing all of them tomorrow.
Grey and white and greenish and black. Clouds, empty dorm room walls, my rain jacket, graduation gowns. Those are the colors of today.
Echoes. Calls of “Goodbye!” echo through the halls. The echo of the microphone through the large Moody Church sanctuary as the speaker gave the commencement address. The echo of my voice when I sing (as I incessently do) in my nearly-empty dorm room.
A musty smell. A rainy smell. Nail polish remover. Cleaning spray. The fast food everyone’s brought back for lunch since the dining hall is closed.
These are some of today’s moments and sensations.
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