The Move

Tonight is a momentous occasion. I've gone through this three times already, and hopefully this will be my last. My brother, however, is doing it for the first time, the move from home to dorm.

It is strange to know that when I go home for the weekends he won't always be here. Sometimes I'll pick him up on my way home, swing through Gainesville, fight the traffic on Archer and spend the next two hours catching up, or maybe sleeping.

We're already planning our first weekend home. Labor Day weekend. The first long weekend of the school year, as well as the weekend of my 21st birthday.

Weird. That's all I can say. The weirdest thing is, it won't effect me that much. I've already been out of the house for three years, and him not being home on the weekends really isn't that odd. He was always busy, or asleep, or I was asleep.

I think about my parents, coming home tomorrow night to an empty nest, their youngest child off to college for this first time. It'll be quiet around the house. The little bro and I are always making noise. Banging out poor improvisations to "Heart and Soul" on the piano, the sound reverberating of the wood floors. Having tickle fights in which I'm squealing and him laughing at me. Stereos playing Jamie Cullum and Metallica (his, not mine). Quiet.

We're leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow, and I'm not done packing. I've done it so many times that I basically know what needs to go. I'll be back in two weeks anyway, so it's really not that big of a deal if I forget something. Anyway, enough of being philosophical, back to packing.

Back in the USA

My family returned today from our two week excursion in Canada. For once I was thankful for an early arrival at the airport, although I did not realize how thankful until we got home and watched the evening news. We heard on the radio before crossing the border back into the States that there a terrorist plot had been foiled in the UK, and as a result there was heightened security around the globe, and especially in American airports. By the time we reached Buffalo International Airport around 7am the lines at the security check points were already stacking up. Paper signs informed us multiple times that liquids and gels would not be allowed in carry-on luggage. We got through security unscathed. The woman in front of me failed to heed the warnings posted on every wall and looked on as bottle after bottle of nail polish and assorted cosmetics were thrown unceremoniously into the garbage by the TSA man.

When we landed in Atlanta, a glance at the Arrival/Departure boards hinted at the state of things outside our small bubble of care. Delays up and down the boards, and cancellations of flights from the UK. Our flights were not actually effected, and we arrived on time in Orlando. The evening news several hours later gave us a glimpse of what we'd missed.

At the end of this rather strange day--traveling is weird enough without the immediate threat of terrorists with Gatorade bottles--I am exceedingly thankful to be home after two weeks in Canada. I had a good time, but I'm happy to have my own bed again, and a night of sleep uninterrupted by snoring.