Hope is a thing...

My new passport arrived. Delivered by Gus, my toothless sweet female mail carrier. Scratching the little edge of itchiness I've had for the past two weeks while it was in process and my old one had CANCELLED stamped across it. The new rules that come into effect in January about needing one to fly to the US make me feel like it's just part of my basic should-have-on-me-at-all-times documentation. The wasps of a dispersed and cross-border life.

I got the last one right before I started my school program, and I think at the time I fully expected that by Feb. 15 2007 -- the expiry date -- I'd be done. Don't know where, who or what else I imagined being by the end of that span. That little booklet thingy punctuated many a flight in North America, but now that I think of it, not outside. Stories woven across the continent, a life left behind, whole new worldviews. The new one -- holds hopes -- feathered images of sturdy birds flying across oceans. It will be tucked in the outer pocket of my bag when I cross the car border this weekend to be with F -- nominally for thanksgiving, but really just a weekend. When I fly to CA this January, for my last winter session, maybe, as a student. With me when F and I strike out on some of the treks that will allow us to live into our imagined intrepid selves. Against my skin when I fly off to -- finally! -- claim the degree whose path seems so gnarled and knotty right now.

"Hope is a thing with feathers" indeed, perched in my soul. Hope and some bloody focused work.