Home (or why I go after my trashy neighbors with pitchforks and torches)

I’m actually sitting out here on the porch, writing before I go in, because it pains me to give up the last moments of this beautiful evening.  It was one of those evenings that if I could, I would just freeze time, because it was so perfect out.  Clear blue sky, the temp didn’t get above about 75ish today, no wind, the birds have been singing,  perfect calmness.  I even brought Nacho out and put him on his tie out to enjoy it with me although he keeps going back to the door like “whyyyy can’t I have in to go be lazy on the couch mom?!”

I used a day to skip class today… my assignment is done and since he told us they wouldn’t be due today and that we would have today to work on them, I couldn’t see the point in going in with nothing to do, knowing damn well he probably wouldn’t be like oh well, turn it in and go home but more like “oh okay, well have a go at another one.”  NO.

Plus it hurt my soul a bit to think of giving up this beautiful evening to sit inside.  That is probably the one thing that saddens me most about this summer class.  It is right during the part of summer I love the most, the evenings.  And it isn’t just during the evenings, but during the part of the evenings that I enjoy the most.  I feel like I’m totally getting cheated out of my favorite part of summer this year but I guess at least it makes Fridays, Saturdays, & Sundays feel all the more special.

I was stranded at home this evening.  Kinda sad because it would have been such a wonderful evening to take Nacho for a walk at the park.  Sadly our area of town lacks sidewalks to make walking him around here safe.  But I needed to find something to do outside.  So I went out to my patio that I love so much and swept it off, watered the plants, pulled up some weeds that have been growing around thanks to the birds assaulting the bird feeder daily and throwing half the food on the ground.  Seriously birds, it is a little insane.  I’ma quit feeding you until you eat some of the crap you throw all over the ground.  That wasn’t enough though… so I decided to prune some herbs.  The cats got a ginourmous catnip salad.  I decided to put some white lights on one of my tiered planters and hang up my patio lights that have amazingly survived something like 2 winters outside.

I putzed around the patio and in the background were birds chirping and the neighbor kids playing.  It just felt so calming, so peaceful.  And then it dawned on me that I have had this feeling before.  Fleeting times when I was out here last summer, but deeper than that.  I knew this.  I knew what it was now.  Home.  This is home.  This is my home.  And this is the first time in 10 years or so that I have truly identified a place as being my home.

No I wouldn’t choose an apartment as my home willingly, but this is where I have been for 3 years and I have sculpted it into what it is and that is this concept of home.  Even though it is not really mine, it feels like mine.  It has become much more than just a place where I stash my stuff until the next move.  The interior has been made to feel more permanent.  When I walk up from taking out the trash or something and see my patio that I have created to be this little oasis of a garden, I feel so much contentment.

No I won’t be here forever, but for as long as I am it is my sanctuary.

I can tell that most people around here don’t feel that way.  This is a temporary place marker until the next move… something better… whatever.  I think that is why some people are so disrespectful to the area, to their neighbors, etc.  It means nothing to them. So they don’t care if they throw some trash out on the lawn, or leave trash hanging out near their door or whatever.  Hell I know my neighbors whom I bitch about elsewhere feel because I don’t even know why the hell they pay rent here, it makes no sense, they don’t even live here!  They come home like once a week and each time they do it has ended with me going to the apt office to have to drop off a complaint because apparently coming home to them means dropping off some trash in front of their door (which is also in front of our door).

But for me, I get so upset because this is my home!  I work hard to make what little I do have beautiful.  And when people disrespect the general vicinity around my home, I do take it personally.  If this were just another place marker, I don’t know if I would care as much.  But finally, it has become greater than that to me.  I finally, finally, finally feel that I have a place to call home.  I never prepared myself for that to happen again, I didn’t search it out, it just sourta happened.

When I moved back here from WI, I just expected it to happen naturally.  I thought, “I’m home!  Everything will be great, everything will be as it once was, all fall back into place.”  And that didn’t happen.  I didn’t feel comfortable, I didn’t feel secure, I didn’t feel at home.

And that confused me because I thought it would be an instant fix.  But a lot of things change in 2 years.  Everything that was once home… no longer was.  And I fought with that for years.

But now I’m back.  And I feel back.  I am a part of my environment.  I want to be a part of my environment.  I have a place.  And at least within these walls, and outside on my little patio, I belong.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Butthurt. « A Road Less Traveled: Deconstructed

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