Before lockdown, I often traveled for work. I love everything about travel – airports, strangers, long walks in new places. I also love to plan for travel, and especially to pack; I think I may enjoy it as much as the trip itself. The bag comes down from storage, the floor or couch or bedspread is strewn.
The art of anticipation is not about desire. Desire is credit cards, sex, sports gambling. Desire is Christmas. The art of anticipation is not about discomfort, either, it’s not the same as delayed gratification, the resistance of one thing for another, ignoring the single marshmallow on a platter for the pledge of two of them in fifteen minutes. The art of anticipation is fundamentally about imagination. It is the long game. A reward is implied, but it can change. Each moment is open in several directions. I don’t know exactly what I’ll need, wherever I’m going, but a light sweater might be handy, some instant coffee, a book.
Of course, unpacking is dull work. There is a feeling of melancholy, the bluesiness of return. Founded on what I think is a fundamental human longing: something to look forward to at the end of the day. The only way I like to unpack is quickly, then we rush out to a restaurant down the street.
What is this? A weekly newsletter by Rosecrans Baldwin consisting of (very) short essays about beautiful things. Any books mentioned can be found in a Bookshop list. Rosecrans’s next book, Everything Now, is available for preorder.
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