Friday, March 27, 2009

no place like home

You were lonely, in need of some company, so you invited me in to the one bedroom apartment of your mind. I hesitated, seeing there wasn’t enough room…but you promised you’d make room; that together, we would clean up the place and share the space.

So I crossed the threshold.

Surprisingly, I felt safe and secure, wanted and loved and welcomed. You asked me to stay as long as I like. I promised to stay until you wanted me to leave.

As we cleared the dust off things passed, old memories full of joy and pain and love and sorrow came to the surface. And we both saw you weren’t really willing to separate from those things. The dumpster was a far walk, so we bagged them up and put them aside. And they still sit in the living room, in the bedroom, in the kitchen, the bathroom, the hallway…

I searched for a place to put my things, but there wasn’t much room, so I decided to just use yours. I slowly forgot about the stuff in my luxurious apartment, my hopes and dreams and memorabilia, the things that mattered to me. I substituted your things for mine. While the seat that is molded to your bum wasn’t nearly as comfortable as what I was used to, I tried to be grateful I had a place to sit at all.

Then you wanted your chair back and I was left to stand. I could feel the chill settling in, so I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. You called me back and told me I could have the couch. And so I stayed, against my better judgment, knowing there was a chair at home fit just to me.

I squirmed on the couch and it irritated you. The more I tossed and turned, the angrier you became. I lost all gratitude for being there and longed for the warmth I felt when I’d first arrived.

The cold blast of your words pushed me toward the door, but I stopped short as you pulled me close and felt the heat of your body against mine. I clung tight, but you peeled yourself away; you pushed and poked and prodded and went to the back bedroom where you could have your own space.

And while I had one foot out the door, my nails dug into the frame with fear of what lie just outside. I considered whether we could rearrange the furniture and make more room…but I couldn’t lift it all without your help. It was all too heavy. And in your room you stayed.

Though you didn’t have the heart to ask me to leave, I knew I was no longer welcome. I stood in the doorway while you were sneaking in others through the window.

And hesitantly, I unclenched my fists and released the tension in my grip and I stopped fighting the obvious truth. I faced my fear and stepped outside. I saw that the sun was shining. And I remembered all my hopes and dreams were still back at my place...and while the journey back may be difficult and I may miss your company at times, there's really no place like home.

4 comments:

Judi said...

wonderful writing, and so true to your heart. he can suck it.

Eileen Swanson said...

wow, you are a talented writer!

Mary Sunshine said...

Amanda,

I don't know what this means. I hope you are ok. You are certainly articulate... If this is a true story and you are going through some painful stuff...I'm so sorry to hear it.

Mary

L said...

Wowzers!! Beautiful. Powerful.