Shift

Familiar things are slipping away. No, that’s not right - old familiar things are slipping away, things I brought with me from the US.

It’s been slow, almost predicable, even. I used up my black spiral-bound notebook, lost my black windbreaker and stained my green t-shirt. I ripped a shirt sleeve on a sharp rock in the Western Desert. I even lost weight, and now no longer fit into half of the pants I brought here.

Back in South Dakota, in late August last year, I packed with intent. I checked what I should bring, budgeted what I wanted to pack, reviewed climate reports, and decided if x shirt would match y pants. I didn’t do all this because studying in Egypt was a grand safari – I did it because I didn’t have a lot of money and didn’t want to carry a lot on the plane.

It worked out. I’ve haven’t had to buy anything clothes-wise since I’ve been here, although I’ve wished for something a bit warmer on some chilly winter nights.

But the process of loss is speeding up. Half of my clothes are wearing out: stitches unraveling, jeans wearing holes, soles separating from shoes. My adaptor for my laptop broke. No explanation, no puffs of smoke. Just . . . gone.

I lost my favorite, world-traveling jacket yesterday. No big story – I just left it somewhere, and now it’s gone.

Khalas.