Most of my things are in storage. When we moved in with my mom, we had my sister’s house and mine to deal with, on top of all of mom’s living and art stuff. So most of ours went off to the You Store’m. I’ve been living on strange furniture and using odd silverware. (No, really. My mom’s silverware is… odd.)
And the house, she’s crowded. I’m sharing a bed with my niece because she can’t stand to sleep with her restless mom. My mother’s art stuff takes up every spare corner, and I had to move a trombone off the couch to sit down and type this. Every flat surface is covered, including the top of the stove- which proves to be tricky.
I don’t have a room to myself. Not a nook. Not even a corner. I’d settle for a cushion. I have nowhere that’s mine. And I miss that.
Everyone needs their spot. In my home, I always had corners with chairs for reading, knitting, or just looking out my favorite window. My back porch was a favorite, as was the bay window overlooking the back pine trees. I had shelves and shelves of books, baskets of yarn, and notebooks all over the place. I miss my things. But more than that I miss having a small, quiet retreat.
There is one spot in this house that is mine, and mine alone. This laptop is the one thing I have that no one else uses or needs. It’s the one place I have that is private and personal. For now, it serves as my retreat.
But it’s not near enough. I need a nest. Even if it’s just a basket of my very own and a pillow that moves around. I need to claim some space.
My goal this week is to carve out something for myself, for a change. Even if it’s the top of the dryer or under the dining room table.
Real life woman. Virtual World avatar. Likes top shelf vodka, dominant men, blues, sunsets and playing darts. Dislikes insecurity, rap, small children and clowns. I'm either behind the bar or under it.