In Transition
I'm laying on Jess' Bedroom floor right now. We are listening to Band of Horses' Everything All The Time while I'm redefining what "home" is. I had heard whispers and shouts about this band and I needed something new, so I bought the album and it has become the recent soundtrack of my life.
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Things could not have gone too much worse with the final heave of the move out. My mom pushed herself to exhaustion to get things done and out while my little brother refused to attend his first three days of classes at his new school. I had to work and get all of my things to take back to school over here, so I was absent for a lot of the final things, and was made to feel guilty about it, as maybe I should have been.
In the last hour or so in the house my mom was losing it, there was hired help cleaning the kitchen while shouting in Russian, the dog of the new owners was yapping in a cage in the basement and Julia and I were lugging hundreds of cardboard boxes to the curb for a special recycling pickup. Then there was a downpour and all the cardboard, never mind us, got soaked. On top of that, the pre-approved loan for buying the new place fell though. My mom and lil bro can't move in there now, are homeless and staying with a family from our church for the time being. I feel guilty for having a guest room in a stable and nurturing environment when things are going so poorly for them.
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Walking away for the last time is easiest when done like every other time before.
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On my last shift my boss at work told me that she was going to miss me a lot. "You've been great--everything you do you do beautifully." I know she was talking about making candy, because I was decorating dark chocolates when she said this, but I pondered that statement, and still am. If somebody could say that anything I did was done "beautifully" I think I could count it a great success.
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Hobbs, my cat, is temporarily living in Jess' family's garage. Her nieces just arrived and want to go play with him, and I want to go play with them, so, I'm out. See a bunch of you soon, miss the rest of you.
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Things could not have gone too much worse with the final heave of the move out. My mom pushed herself to exhaustion to get things done and out while my little brother refused to attend his first three days of classes at his new school. I had to work and get all of my things to take back to school over here, so I was absent for a lot of the final things, and was made to feel guilty about it, as maybe I should have been.
In the last hour or so in the house my mom was losing it, there was hired help cleaning the kitchen while shouting in Russian, the dog of the new owners was yapping in a cage in the basement and Julia and I were lugging hundreds of cardboard boxes to the curb for a special recycling pickup. Then there was a downpour and all the cardboard, never mind us, got soaked. On top of that, the pre-approved loan for buying the new place fell though. My mom and lil bro can't move in there now, are homeless and staying with a family from our church for the time being. I feel guilty for having a guest room in a stable and nurturing environment when things are going so poorly for them.
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Walking away for the last time is easiest when done like every other time before.
---
On my last shift my boss at work told me that she was going to miss me a lot. "You've been great--everything you do you do beautifully." I know she was talking about making candy, because I was decorating dark chocolates when she said this, but I pondered that statement, and still am. If somebody could say that anything I did was done "beautifully" I think I could count it a great success.
---
Hobbs, my cat, is temporarily living in Jess' family's garage. Her nieces just arrived and want to go play with him, and I want to go play with them, so, I'm out. See a bunch of you soon, miss the rest of you.