The call came. "Barbara, this is Katy* calling from Big Bend Community College".
A pause.
Me, "Hi, how are you Katy"?
"I am doing well, thank you Barbara. Listen, I am calling you to let you know that we are very excited to offer you the job as our Communication instructor at Big Bend Community College".
My heart didn't race, it stood still. Just a fraction of a pulse it waited to see if it could continue, as if life itself had been suspended. I inhaled, pushing through the shift between a yesterday of uncertainty, and a tomorrow of tenure. "Three on a tree", I thought for no particular reason except that my brain does that sometimes, a self-protective mechanism of sorts I assume. Re-framing focus just in case this was a joke. Like that time I got into grad school and got my PhD.
"Oh wow Kathleen! Thank you. That is wonderful news". I stopped. Wasn't I suppose to do something professional, like delay my acceptance? Well surly I should talk to my spouse? Make sure he was on board if I accepted?
"We really loved your interview. We feel you are the perfect candidate for what we need. It is very exciting to be able to offer you this job". Kathleen's tone was unvarnished joy. I wanted to reach out and hug her.
"Thank you so much. I loved meeting you guys and I really loved the school. The whole interview process was wonderful. Listen, do you mind if I talk to my spouse? I want to be able to just let him know about the offer. Since it is Friday, I would get back to you first thing Monday"!
The dean stumbled a little then. Some of the air left the call, and there was room to move, to think. "Oh, um, sure. Just let us know!" Her disappointment was subtle, expressed as a wee stumble in the exchange I felt like an ass. I was on board with the joy and I should have just let it rip. But now I had committed to accepting by Monday, so I thanked her and got off the phone. Within the next 5 minutes I had called my partner, my sister, and my best friend, and I had texted my family in Switzerland via WhatsApp. And there I sat in my shimmering expectancy that would need wait until Monday morning.
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Here I am, six months later, packing up home in San Diego, California. But I am not just packing up the things (clothes, furniture, knick knacks, etc), I am also packing myself up. Re-packing myself. Unpacking myself. So strange to go through the material of your life, the things that mark you as you. The trash and the treasures. What if I didn't have these things? That photo album that depicts my 6th birthday on a sunny day in my childhood backyard, parents watching as I laugh with my friends. (Who took these photos so my parents could participate in the festivities they put together for me?) The cabinet full of lipsticks, lotions, brushes, and all manner of personal care? What if I didn't have the extra set of sheets I don't need? Or the gorgeous mask from Zimbabwe that my sister brought back for me from her travels? And the books. So many books. I am awash in books, mostly academic and some that are more of the pleasure variety. Packing and unpacking is a reckoning with my past, with what matters to me, with what I have let go and what I cling to. It is a reckoning with my consumption as well. My carelessness.
As much as I hold onto gifts and heirlooms, I am also guilty of adding unnecessary plastic, glass, mineral, chemical, dye, cotton and god knows what else to my existence. Of depleting the earth of its resources. And now we are moving from a 3 bedroom/2 bath house to a 4 bedroom/2 bath house. I am running the course of capitalism through the suburban landscape built to funnel its avarice. The neighbors however, are very nice. There is a small town sensibility to this place. And I love the feeling of the countryside being just around the corner. The huge yard. And my job beckons. One job. Not two jobs. Not three jobs. Not running from campus to campus. One single teaching job. I will also be responsible for guiding the department. For developing its trajectory. I was built for this moment. I crave this responsibility.
* Name changed for privacy
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