One More Time

One more time to load the car, heavy, piled high with months’ worth of possessions. 

One more time to push through the thick wooden door, into the little white-walled dorm room.

One more time to push, pull, shove the aging furniture across the flat carpet, settling shelves, desk, dresser into the places they’ve occupied these three years. 

One more time to open boxes and suitcases, spilling books, papers, neatly rolled clothes across the plastic-wrapped mattress.

One more time to turn a box-room into a home, rolling sticky tack between my fingers, pressing pictures, decorations to the wall.

One more time to line shoes along the closet wall, pretending they’ll stay neatly stacked for longer than two days.

One more time to buzz down, down, down to the basement, unload my mailbox, eagerly pulling the green slips indicating packages from amongst the stack of last semester’s papers, quizzes, flyers. 

One more time for a hot August in the city, first day of school as the sirens whirl, the cars honk, people move all around the windows of our downtown classrooms. 

One more time convocation; standing, clapping, while professors swish down the aisle in their academic robes, medals, scarves, emblems richly colored and deeply reminiscent of Hogwarts. 

One more time, one more semester. 

And that drive? That moving? That settling in?

It all begins tomorrow. 



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