The order of things is turned around, the days feel like months, and long and long: what day is it?  what date?  I think of the potential problems looming at home: the disgruntled honors’ parent “I will have a sit-down with you” her e-mail hisses.  I hear nothing from my principal who took the command: I will handle it, go, go.  It was all-consuming; I imagine the worst.  Who is this person and why?

Still, I try to be ordered, to line things up, to label the separate sacks (ordered online specifically for travel) with masking tape: pants, tops, pj’s and undies, bras I haven’t worn since getting on the plane back in Chicago, but I have them, I am ready, for what I don’t know.  I am ready, lotions and toothbrush at hand, phone and converter; strange money tucked away in my belt hidden under clothes.  Still, always something popping into my mind, unwanted panic, where is it, where is it, where have I gone?