Elgin, the last night.

In 12 hours, I won't live in Elgin anymore. I wish I could've left this farmhouse in the winter, when I was sealed inside like a pound of ground beef in a freezer, wrapped in plastic and then wrapped in white meat-paper. But instead, I have to leave after watching an orange sunset over the fields of soy that last year were corn, I have to leave after a Mr. Pizza dinner with Kris, I have to leave after taking the long way home from her house, just so I could drive by the WSU Roch-center again, just so I could drive by the empty parking lot of Century and the digital sign telling me to have a safe summer.

I packed yesterday, a long day, layered all of my books into boxes after pulling them in wide handfuls off my shelf. I decided which clothes would not see the light of day until September, which clothes I'd wear--but what do you pack when you don't even know what your job is, whether you have to dress up or not?--I packed and packed and packed and drug boxes to the chicken coop, where James is letting me store it for the summer. Thank God, because where else would it go? I packed and packed and packed. The room is empty, the walls are bare, I've again come to recognize how much shit I have because it's all tightly kissing in one tiny room. And I washed the last of my clothes for the last time in Elgin, I helped James and Gillian unload mud from the creek to under the new deck (you're wondering why--it's a long story, but let's just say that piling dirt and mud and grass under the deck keeps James from a $500 building permit) and the mud looked just like shit, and if you sniffed it up close smelled like it too, having been under that creek so long. Yesterday, and the day before, and today, J & G mowed ellipticals in the lawn, turing from pink-skinned to red-skinned. The kind where you know they're going to sweat in bed that night, but still beg for breeze. I kept the cards from Ms. M and Mr. O and the students handy that will push me through the summer. I decided what I might need should I spend the summer in Green Bay, should the summer job not go through. I pulled home from dinner tonight, to see that green shed waiting over the hill for the last time. This morning, I ran the last run on County Road 25, past the bird road kill, past the lone biker, past the tractors and semis and trucks and sedans that move out of my way so I don't twist my ankle running in the dirt shoulder.

There is a horsefly buzzing against the window. My Summit is sweating. I'm listening to oldies on the TV. I forgot to pack the DVD player, but I'll let them have it for the summer. I'll sleep the last time in my own bed for a long time, for months. I haven't paid for June rent, yet. I owe a lot of people a lot of money. I want that summer job so bad. I might find out tomorrow. I might find out Tuesday. I might find out a lot of things in the next couple of days, but right now I have to live this last stretch of limbo--well, until the next stretch, depending on what news is. It's already June, it's days from my birthday, but school just got out and I'm confused. It feels like May, but I'm grateful it's not. Plus, it was so cold for so long, and it's just this weekend that I come home from morning (late afternoon, let's be honest, I wake up and watch three episodes of SVU every morning) runs and I'm soaked and sweaty and feeling good. My stuff is in the chicken coop, my room is empty, and all I think about all day and all the drives home and in the shower and when eating and when talking--is that I'm not ready to leave this town yet. I've never felt such a desire to stay. Even in Mankato, it was time to leave, even though it was hard. Everyone else was leaving, we were all moving on. But I'm not finished here, and that's just it.

I'm not finished with you yet, Rochester.

It's so summer right now, and it's such a Jeano summer. I think of Winona, after the first year. No job. After the second year. No job. I think of Winona, after graduation, in St. Louis, before grad school. No job. I've put in my dues, eh? And I can finally, hopefully say--that this is the last year of it.

But back to Elgin. I'll miss the sunsets. I'll miss the summer. I'll miss the fire pit, walking around the yard, I'll miss the tree with the fort in it, I'll miss James snapping his fingers to every song we hear, I'll miss drives to Mankato, I'll miss late nights at the glass table grading, I'll miss nights in that room tossing and turning over students, students, students, I'll miss nights in that room when Mr. O calls with the words snow day in his mouth, I'll miss nights of Mario Party, I'll miss the blue rocking chair that I'm always doing stuff in, I'll miss this year. I'll just miss this year.