I don’t care if it’s a sad goodbye or a bad goodbye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it.

So that was the end of the great Salinger adventure. [These overly-philosophical sentimental blog posts will henceforth be known as the Holden Caufield Series, and I might look back at them from time to time and relive what happened.]
I was ready to go home, I think, and now I'm here for four more nights, and that'll be it. Then I sort of go home again. It's like retracing my steps to Massachusetts. I miss the accents. 


If I'm supposed to be feeling some huge rush of nostalgia, then I'm missing something. I only feel detached, but I guess I've felt that for a while now.  I think it really is time for me to go. 

So, I have tomorrow and the next day to finish packing, then I'll be on a six-day hiking trip, and after that, something finally starts; I move in. If I can keep my game up and hold on to the fight, I'll breeze through this transition. If I don't keep my momentum going then it will take me a few years to get into the swing of things, just like every other school I've been to.


The only place where I really had a place almost immediately was my dance studio. I surprised myself; tonight was my last class, and I was pretty much ok, maybe because it doesn't feel like I'm leaving, just taking a break. ADA will always be my studio anyways, and I'll always come back while I can. When everything was shit, that place was the only thing that could make it better. I won't forget that. 


I realized too that I might not last forever in Boston. For the next four years, and probably a little while after that, it's going to be perfect. It's a great city and it's the perfect fit for me. But when we were driving back up from the train today, I watched out the car window like I always do, and the sun was at that perfect angle where it skims the tops of the trees and it feels like you're racing after that. Everything was in technicolor. For some reason, those greens were the brightest and most vibrant I've ever seen, and the tips of some of the leaves were turning golden, like the color from the sun had bled onto them and stained. I had a staring contest with the sun while it was behind clouds, following it through the trees, like we were facing each other. That's when I feel the most like myself. I'm never going to stop loving this place, either. I just won't. Maybe I can go sailing tomorrow morning--we'll see.


I think it's amazing that I'm going to be living in the physical manifestation of one of my mental "happy places" and I don't know what to think about it or what to expect or what's going to happen, so I'm just going to have to find out.