Similar to the finished product of an old fashioned lollipop this scene swirled into a blur. As I came to, it became apparent that my room had packed itself, all of my stuff was in boxes, and was seemingly walking itself into my storage unit. I thought to myself, “This is rather strange”. As the more lucid part of my robotic body walked passed isles of debris I was called out to by items distressed at the thought of being left behind in that last minute frenzy. Fine Mr. Hammock, I said, you can come too, but everyone else must understand that my bags are now filled to the brim. In this particular moment time is of the essence even more than usual.

After stopping at the new Vic’s pizzeria location on the north side of Olympia I engage the thrusters and zoom downtown to catch the 1:30 bus headed northbound for Seattle. My hands are full as I hop out of the car. I’m literally dripping bags and yet out of habit my fingers cling unconsciously to the remaining sips of coffee. I hear the hardworking bus engine fire as I’m dashing in that direction. I inspect the pizza box and deem that last bite ambitious. Nonetheless I use an available pinky and woof it down, and then stumble onto the bus with my mouth full of food. The fee was three dollars, but unfortunately I’ve only got two. The bus driver, with deep green eyes, graciously accepts the shortcomings of my payment. I heave my belongings onto the three seats I now occupy and praise my journey with a full sigh of relief — I’m here, I have made it this far. As the bus started combusting dead dinosaurs my nerves begin acting up; I am about to leave the country again. It is not often that I get butterflies.

I have a restless bus ride to Seattle. I try to focus my attention on reading, but sentences aren’t registering. Instead I pass the time by playing chess on my phone. After a few matches I bore, so I borrow a writing style from Stanley Kubrick as I flush my emotional state from brain to paper. My plan was to meet my Dad somewhere in downtown Seattle and then head with him to the airport. After brief communication he says that he is headed for his car and that he will meet me at a given location. Sure enough when I step off the bus he is coincidently walking passed that same corner — this is it… Hi Dad — and so it goes. We begin heading to the airport, traffic slows to a snail’s pace. That doesn’t last long and we eventually exit for SeaTac. The tricky part here is that there is an exit for the exit for SeaTac. We take the first exit and then our floating conversation distracts us and we miss the airport exit. This misstep caused a brief stint of anxiety, but fortunately we arrive with plenty of time to spare. If anyone reading this hasn’t already learned from your time in my life, my father and I are not very punctual on time. After glowing hugs and kisses, and a brief reluctance to let go, I finish saying goodbye and walk through the automatic doors of the airport with my head full of adventure. After breezing through TSA I use my spare time to call my father’s mother and receive her blessing. I always feel better after a talk with my Grandma. Just like that the blurring swirl is finished and I boarded another plane set to depart the country. Periodically during the chaos of the previous weeks I drifted off into a place in my imagination that held bright images of the flora and fauna of the jungle — inhaling and then slowly exhaling.