In the clearing stands a boxer

Princess Whackamole is off to the land of Sox and Celtics. During orientation in the truly majestic Cutler Majestic Theatre, the incoming class practiced a ritual call and response common to the natives (College Official: "Sweeeeet Car-o-line" 775 freshmen: "BWAH BWAH BWAAAH!!!").

I could not be more proud of what she has achieved already. Her new kingdom is broad and rich with possiblities and really good restaurants.

Thus it is that I am spending this morning clearing and boxing, sorting through the rush and rubble she left behind, preparing to move. It's comforting and bittersweet being surrounded by all her things: scripts, homework, souvenirs from high school and travel.

During the course of almost two decades, this amazing transformation from the time when I watched every tiny panda-like sneeze to now when I get txts from foreign countries and look forward to video-chatting with her in her dorm. I used to know the story behind every thing she owned (Christmas gift from my grandma, dress she wore to her first day of kindergarten)but where the heck did the rest of this stuff come from? Is this empty bottle of Kutztown Birch Beer a memory to her, or just something she didn't get around to recycling? Then there's the knit David Bowie that Santa brought this year. Oh, Ziggy, all these Ch-ch-ch-changes...