While I was packing my books last night and contemplating which ones to keep, a realization hit me. If I hadn’t touched these books these past two years, when I’ve had ample down time after work and on the weekends, will I really pick them up during medical school? As it is with books and other hobbies, I am eager to start but rarely follow through, and so I keep repacking things that I hope to dab more into once I move to a new place. This may have been a more realistic expectation leaving college. But now I need to embrace the fact that for the next 4 (or maybe even 8?) years, spare time will be more sparse, and I will be forced to prioritize quiet times, sleep, friends, family, etc. Still it saddens me a little that I won’t be reading about film-making, or soap bubbles, or letters of Van Gogh. But part of growing up is letting go, right? I mean, I have yet to miss anything I tossed away during my last move. Heck, I don’t even remember what I left behind…



