The day I realized there'd be 52 days left before I left for college, I started counting down with a deck of playing cards, arranged from 2s to aces: spades, diamonds, clubs, hearts. When I first clipped the two of spades to a hanging magnetic basket next to my monitor, I was about as gung-ho about leaving as anyone could be. I was going to Philly, my already-adopted new home, and away from everything I considered a "problem". In Philly, my mom couldn't get mad at me for not putting away the laundry, my art teacher couldn't tell me I was devoting too much time to academics (even if I take an art class, I'm going to an Ivy League school...), and I wouldn't have to watch my grandparents suffer and die. In Philly, I'll have a great gelato place within walking distance, classes that interest me, opportunities to date some of the brightest young gentlemen in existence, and a roommate who has agreed to put up with my yarn stash.
I'm up to the five of hearts now, and I'm not so sure. I don't know what it is that prompted such a change. Maybe it's noticing how sick my grandma is or how much I miss my friends, even when I've only not seen them in a few weeks. Hell, maybe it's the idea that my entire stash just can't come with me. I can just envision it: My parents show up after a 3-hour car ride, bag of yarn in hand. "Nooooooo, mom! It's not THAT purple merino. It's the superwash! Now I won't be able to start my sweater for another month!" Perhaps, though, it's the idea that I'm going to have to start over again. Everything I've established during the last 18 years just won't mean much. It's time to start over, make new friends, develop new interests, and prove myself to a whole new set of people.
This should be interesting.