April 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
And still no boxes.
You know, those ones I mailed to a friend in Germany in January and she mailed to me here a month later? Or the one for Easter from my beautiful familia? Or the one from my friend Tom who wanted to surprise me?
Not a one of them has reached me.
Yesterday, my GORGEOUS friend Amy received a box from her momma for her birthday. It was shipped six days ago. And all of a sudden, my frustration just snapped. I had tried to be pretty patient about these freaking boxes I had put my extra clothes and shoes and camera gear in. I had kept a pretty level head about the stolen phone and wallet. And then, yesterday.
I. was. done.
Part of me wanted to throw up and part of me was overjoyed for Amy and part of me wanted to punch someone at the post office in the throat. But, that wouldn’t really help anything except make me feel terrible later. I can’t do anything, really, but wait.
To quote the great Inigo Montoya, I hate waiting.
It really doesn’t take a whole lot to keep me happy. When living in Canada (and we were POORER than poor), I said all the time that 86 cents was the epitome of happiness. It was the cost of an ice cream cone plus tax at McDonald’s back then. A hug, laughing ’til I cry, some hip-hop, or an ice cream cone are all I really need to find joy. However, wearing the same. eleven. items. of clothing for 3 months is bothering me more than I think it should.
With little private space, I skipped out on my obligations for the rest of the day and borrowed some shoes to go run. (Guess where my running things are at? If you guessed “in a box”, you’d be right!) Slipped on a cobblestone one mile in and busted up my knee and I didn’t even care. Three more miles later, I felt like I was just getting started. Runs are where I vent and pray and whine. You think it’s just peaches up in here all the time? Ha, sorry, darlin’. I just work out my baggage behind closed doors. I try to remember that my words and attitude have an impact on others that they carry with them. I’m never perfect, but I try to keep the negativity and bitching to just me and Him.
At the end of the day, things were better (except my knee), but I was still frustrated. I sit here frustrated.
But, it’s just stuff. Replaceable, soul-less stuff. My semester here has been totally beautiful without my cross-body strap or daypack. Loving these gorgeous women wasn’t harder because I was without a fourth pair of pants. Half of my clothes are either too big or have had to be taken in anyways. 🙂
And the words of a beauty I received in an email are helping to keep me centered.
“You’re working on treasure in the right places, love. People and love and the world and the heart. That’s what you’re doing with your time here.”
(On repeat in our house this week.)