Simple pleasures and Why you really can't ever go home

I spent Saturday afternoon and all day today with Alcott and his older brother. We watched kids playing basketball, we ate yummy food, they played Rock Band, and I did their laundry. Well, technically Alcott did his own laundry (and was very proud to tell me so this morning) and I did his brother's. I vacuumed and picked up around the house, too. I had earnest conversations about Very Important Things with a boy of clear, green eyes full of hope and sadness in equal measures. I listened as a ManChild on the cusp of greatness told me about the horrors of his childhood without sadness or regret, only the determination not to repeat the mistakes of ihs parents. Some days are golden and, if you're very, very lucky, you actually recognize them when they happen to you...I have been blessed with two of them this weekend.

On a different yet slightly related note, someone else moved into my condo this weekend. The condo that housed me from college until February of this year. So many memories, both happy and sad, in that space for me and I don't really feel that my new life here in Suburbia has started yet because only half of the unit known as "Us" live here. Well, technically TCB does live here - his clothes, our cats, his power tools - but I can't see his beautiful blue eyes or feel his arms around me when I cry, so I don't think it counts. In any case, this house isn't yet "home" and neither, now, is my condo, so I guess I ought to be classified as Emotionally Homeless or some such thing.

Maybe if I could get the guts up to hang a picture or a mirror or anything on the walls, it might feel like home? I've got teenaged boys coming over again next weekend, so perhaps we'll be brave and do some decorating.


Unknown said…
Please becareful, I don't to come home to a thousand holes in the wall and telling me it is the new art form.

Popular Posts