When it comes to packing
I try to fit it all,
even if it's just a backpack
for a trip to the strip mall.
In the summers I fly to spain
to go to the beach with my family,
and for the third time in a row
a stewardess told me "lo debes haber facturado",
you should have checked that,
as I squeeze my
aptly named
Patagonia blackhole dufflebag
and close the overhead compartment..
Even now as I set off on a road trip,
I have enough to start anew.
Daniel's law - if there is space
it will get filled.
Do I have room to bring something on the way back?
My first long trip came when I was four.
We had come rushing from the pool
as a gnarly summer storm rolled in,
the ones appalachia and piedmont folks know all so well,
and supper was about ready
as we were ready to wait out the winds
when my father said "let's all get to the basement",
which is not something we'd normally do.
Ten seconds after we had gone down
- crash -
the largest tree crashed down into the kitchen,.
My father said it was a whisper from god
that moved him to moved us,
as we stood outside in the rain
wary that the basement ceilings may crash.
It took about eight months for repairs,
the duration of which we spent in a rental.
I wasn't allowed into the house and most of my room was damaged,
I didn't feel safe with the feeling of starting anew,
even if most the things I bring
hardly need to come at all.
