I have a particular fondness for a certain poet by the name of Ezra Pound. Though there are so many of his poems that speak to my soul, today I want to share a specific poem with you all. It goes like this.
"And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass."
To many of you, this may sound strange. A field mouse? What? But for me, it couldn't make more sense, especially as the countdown to graduation is quickening its pace, showing no mercy to those of us who feel as though we haven't filled our days enough. Lately, I've spent my nights in bed, staring at the ceiling, recounting the days activities as I reluctantly fall asleep.
Did I do enough today? Did I tell enough people that I love them? Did I make my friends feel special? Did I spend each second of each minute thanking the universe for the people who make my life so beautiful, so worth it? Do they know how much I'll miss them? How much they mean to me? Do they?
I worry that I spend too much of my time thinking about pointless things. Fretting over schoolwork. Sitting in bed watching Thirteen Reasons Why. Freaking out over what to wear out, what to eat for dinner, what time to wake up in the morning. Do I spend too much time dwelling on and dealing with things that won't necessarily matter in three weeks, when I leave? Should I be spending my time doing things, being with people, exerting energy on opportunities that will disappear when I leave?
I drove to Orlando this weekend to spend time with my sister, my mother, and some other family members. I spent four hours in a car on Friday, and four more hours alone on Sunday. Having so much time alone is a dangerous thing for us overthinkers; my mind was overwhelmed as I sat there, thinking about anything and everything. The majority of thoughts pointed toward the next chapter of my life - more specifically, though, toward those I would be leaving behind.
So much has happened over the past four years during my time at university. Memories from sophomore year summer came rushing into my mind - a Providence Canyon trip, a night out at Tabu, days spent marathoning Glee and sneaking out with Elizabeth for a late night snack. Memories of junior year, Halloween, seeing Rocky Horror with my roommates for the second year in a row. So many memories rushed to the forefront of my mind, my heart began to ache.
And then, magically, my mind took a turn to the positive. Rather than dwell on the sadness of leaving, I focused instead on the time I have left. Ezra Pound's poem came into play at this point. Three weeks is both a short amount of time and just enough time, depending on how you look at it. I immediately texted my best friend, sharing my desires with her.
"Hey. Let's make these next three weeks the best together, okay?"
In the end, when my overstuffed UHAUL pulls out of the driveway of my Tallahassee home, I want to feel calm and content. I want to be able to turn to myself and say, "Your days were full enough. Good job, kid."
So, hey, Tallahassee family. These next few weeks are going to fly by, I know it. Let's make them the best three weeks together. Okay?
