Empty

Yesterday I emptied my apartment and took off on a four month road trip.

I once asked the livery manager at the Center for Wooden Boats what she liked about sailing.

“It empties me,” Elena said. “No matter what I am worried about or obsessing over, when I go sailing, it empties me out.”

“And what do you get when you are empty?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, looking somewhat puzzled, “It’s just empty.”

Yesterday, I emptied my apartment, left the keys on the counter, looked back. A quick rush of tears for what I do not know.

Took off to give myself to this discovery, this wondering, on what happens with empty.

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