I fly to Berkeley tomorrow, not to see Southern California again for nine more weeks.
There were things left undone, undoubtedly, but life is given meaning by the purposes we are driven to, and what is left to do is all we are ever truly concerned with. This idle month, a winter without school hanging over my head, has given me calmness and contentedness, relaxation in the house and city I call home, with the people I've known for many years.
And yet. As my time in the swathes of Torrance wanes, I grow ever impatient for my return. For, knowing that I must return in just a few days, to start anew, is it not reasonable to admit a desire to begin? It is like the last minutes for the impatient driver waiting on the last, lagging passenger to exit the house so that the six-hour road trip may commence.
I didn't really like Up immediately after I first saw it, but in the hours afterwards, as I thought about it, I realized it had a message for me. The movie was released around the end of high school, on the threshold of a new beginning. I find it increasingly difficult to discard anything that might one day hold memories, if merely for the pleasure that looking back on them will one day bring. But I watched, entranced, during that pivotal scene when Carl's wife encourages him to appreciate the adventure, and to have a new one, freeing him to leave long-lost memories behind and travel towards what is new and important. And I thought, will I ever have the courage to leave everything behind, and begin a new life, as he did?
"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain." --Red, from The Shawshank Redemption