Music Boxes

When I was three and still living in Germany, I had a nice collection of musical toys. Snow-globes that chimed cheery tunes, an old-fashioned, handle-cranked music box that tinkled a melancholic, Für Elise, wind up animals that played lullabies, just to mention a few. I thought it was quite amusing to wind them all up at once and hear the cacophony echo through my pink, floral, little-girl's room. My mom hated me doing this, and forbade it, because it sounded too much like 'the circus.' When she was away I would wind up all my music boxes and savor the forbidden sounds of merriment and chaos.

Normally, this would be a lovely way to segue into chain of annoying memories of my mom, but at the moment I kind of understand the stress that all those noises induced in her, because it kind of sounds like that in my head right now. There are way too many thoughts zooming around in my brain, like angry, trapped bees. First of all, my family is all back home—much to my dismay—and I'm already finding excuses to escape the house again. This is it. I can't live with them anymore. But looking at flights isn't exactly a soothing process and creates quite a bit of anxiety, especially when the rest of the formalities of moving enter into my head. ALL.AT.ONCE.

Flight. Packing. Two-weeks'-Notice. Goodbyes. Place to live. New Job. School. What do with my life.