51. The road home starts with boxes

Our time here grows short. We leave in exactly two weeks. In fact, in exactly two weeks we'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Or maybe we'll be cooling our heels in JFK. Regardless, we started taking our first steps along our Exodus just the other day.

One of those shirts lashed to the side fell off on our way here.  I cried when I found out.
 That's how exhausted I was. I cried because I'd lost a white tshirt.

We packed three boxes up the other day

and shipped them, via post, across the sea.

Though just the first return-home move we play

it sets the board up advantageously.

To get here, two huge backpacks we stuffed taut

plus shoulder bags, with electronic gear.

Remember thinking I, “While still a lot

I'd not have thought that all I'd need fit here.”

In France we've not increased our inventory

by all that much, yet still our stuff's increased.

No more blood from a stone: apt allegory

for how our packs' space already is leased.

So that we might skirt airlines' checked-bag rates

we've mailed our excess cargo to the states.