My mother turned to me the other day and announced, “you must feel like a gypsy!” This was in referral to my constant packing-unpacking-packing-unpacking-packing…etc. craziness this summer. Aside from the fact that I have thesis/GRE books I carry everywhere with hopeless optimism and a horrible habit of over-packing, it does really feel as if I move my whole life around at least twice a week. With a boyfriend down at Amherst two hours away, parents, a washer machine and extra money to be made only forty-five minutes away, and my weekday internship near my aunt and uncle’s lakeside cottage I absolutely adore, I easily find excuses to make camp in all three places most weeks. Though I feel extremely fortunate I have these three rather good options and a car that has (so far) not fallen apart, I feel the steam running out in this summer-fun locomotive.
As college students, we naturally fall into this “on-the-move” category, having to change homes at least two or three times during the year. However, during the semester, I drive maybe 200 miles every month…not each week. I miss having my own, one room (my bedroom at the cottage is technically allotted to me, though when extended family comes, things get shifted around). I crave for the days where I’m only packing book-bags, not half my wardrobe. I wouldn’t change the way this summer is going – I’m loving (mostly) every minute of it – but come September, I do look forward to spending more time in my dorm room instead of the car.