going to…
I’m holding the envelope in my hand, the envelope which says where I’m going to spend the next few years. It feels like I’m holding my future, that it’s fragile and if I look at it incorrectly it will spontaneously combust or dissolve into dust. I know this is not true. I know that it is just a few pieces of paper in a Fedex envelope, and that even the words on those pieces of paper will not materially change my manner of living in any immediate way when I read them. Nor really will the contents be a surprise – they will just fill in the blanks. I know my future (short-term, anyhow, and barring accident): in two months I will be going to Armenia, where I will receive training and begin learning the Armenian language. In five months I will transfer to _________________ and begin teaching, which I will do for twenty-four months following. After that, _____________…