I wrapped another dish in newspaper and place it in a box that will sit there for a month probably. The dish came from a friend, newspaper and boxes too. Come to think of it... a good chunk of the things I "have" came from someone else.
A collection of mix & match.
Some things are well worn already.
Other things, came well taken care of or still in the original package.
I sat the dish in the box and thought of how many people I never let past the threshold of 305. Typical me... not letting people past a certain point.
I was only here for a year.
A year that contained the longest winter of my life.
A year of my own sort of independence and yet a new found dependence as well.
305 was my statement that I could do it.
I could live on my own and not die I guess.
But the part of me that needs to be reclusive, quiet, restful, introverted, etc. found it to be a new space to make me separate. Sort of the opposite of how the rest of my life goes. People don't like to describe me as reclusive, quiet, or introverted. I don't blame them. What proof do I give them anyway?
305 was my proof.
I was so caught up in having an hour here or a moment there, of silence, I forgot how to share space, resources, my home.
Things I had been taught for years, not really in my first home, but all the others that followed.
The ones who took me in.
Showed me how to feel home no matter what the day, activity, etc.
I put that dish in the box and I felt like I was being released of a season I needed to be in, in order to make it to the next one... this next one.
Moving here I had a bit of rose colored glasses and thought I had fulfilled my childhood dream... and in a sense I did, because I got to know my community and my neighbors and myself. But now I know that there are more layers and levels to that dream. And this next phase is just part of truly fulfilling it.
I want to have more people cross the threshold of my next spot, but only if I know for sure they will feel the same sense of home I have for years. I also want to feel content and confident in my awareness of needing some space or time to myself. I don't need a lot of it, trust me, I am on day two of "quiet" and I'm already losing my mind. But I am thankful for it all.
The next couple of weeks I will slowly pack away the few things that make up my space, take them down the road, and set up shop in a place that has a lot of unanswered questions. A place that has the ability to grow me even more than 305.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Monday, June 3, 2019
The Suns Truth
No one has to tell the sun to be happy. It just is.
It's big, bright, loud, warm, joyful.
You expect certain things from the sun because it has never proven before it could possibly be sad.
So you can imagine, I had no idea it would go like this.
The sun never stops being happy, but clouds exist, don't they?
Rainy, cloudy, cold, and silent days exist.
But when a person behaves like the sun. almost always.
You forget, the clouds have to come eventually.
And yet, why is it such a shock this time?
Why didn't we plan for this?
When places where you learned about yourself, that you called home, are torn down and dug up.
A dark cloud appears on a face that once shown like a sunset.
How did I not know?
A pain ripping through your stomach when someone rips back the ray of sunshine curtain you used to hide the darkness... pointing at it with a score board that mimics midnight.
I knew. I knew it. I avoided it. My lungs fill with weight unbearable.
People never really assumed you could hold on long anyway.
My body creaks with dust and guilt and stagnant pools only the moon can find its refection in.
But she is fire. She is light. No. She's something like acid rain.
I got burnt, literally. And I was stunned, because how can the sun burn itself?
Unless it was only pretending to be... I was pretending to be...
For so long I swallowed bricks and created a wall thicker than the strongest safe.
Good luck cracking a code I never learned to begin with.
Maybe tonight the sun learned it could be sad after all... or maybe it just finally saw the value in the moon.
This is the suns truth.
After trying to find comfort in the story she was always meant to be happy... you could still light up a room by sharing with the moon and stars.
It's big, bright, loud, warm, joyful.
You expect certain things from the sun because it has never proven before it could possibly be sad.
So you can imagine, I had no idea it would go like this.
The sun never stops being happy, but clouds exist, don't they?
Rainy, cloudy, cold, and silent days exist.
But when a person behaves like the sun. almost always.
You forget, the clouds have to come eventually.
And yet, why is it such a shock this time?
Why didn't we plan for this?
When places where you learned about yourself, that you called home, are torn down and dug up.
A dark cloud appears on a face that once shown like a sunset.
How did I not know?
A pain ripping through your stomach when someone rips back the ray of sunshine curtain you used to hide the darkness... pointing at it with a score board that mimics midnight.
I knew. I knew it. I avoided it. My lungs fill with weight unbearable.
People never really assumed you could hold on long anyway.
My body creaks with dust and guilt and stagnant pools only the moon can find its refection in.
But she is fire. She is light. No. She's something like acid rain.
I got burnt, literally. And I was stunned, because how can the sun burn itself?
Unless it was only pretending to be... I was pretending to be...
For so long I swallowed bricks and created a wall thicker than the strongest safe.
Good luck cracking a code I never learned to begin with.
Maybe tonight the sun learned it could be sad after all... or maybe it just finally saw the value in the moon.
This is the suns truth.
After trying to find comfort in the story she was always meant to be happy... you could still light up a room by sharing with the moon and stars.
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