My very first woven wrap has left the nest. It’s gone via UPS on a very expensive trip to Californ-I-Ay. I’ll miss that guy in a sentimental way: we weathered the hot summers in its black hempiness, trying to beat it into a soft, floppy blanket where it most resembled a denim burlap sack. We succeeded in a month’s time of constant wrapping. The kraken cradled my son on my shoulders in our very first ruck. The kraken was the first wrap A used to cuddle e to sleep. My dad carried e in the kraken across Busch Gardens for an entire day. It’s been his blanket. It’s lived with us and loved with us, but eventually we grew out of it, preferring longer wraps and different qualities. And so, it’s moved on, and the great destashing commences with a bang.
Wheeling and dealing aside, my mind has been occupied by symmetry. I have been pouring over my thesis and others’ work trying, once more, to wrap my mind around identical particles. This time I lack the indelible fire that drove me, but the consequences of failure are far more telling. Then, I would have lacked a note that said “with Honors.” Now, should I flounder, I lose the chance of monetarily contributing to our familial well-being in a situation that works well for A and e and boom and me. So, off again I go, to study and puzzle and understand.