I sit here tonight waiting for my boyfriend to get ready upstairs. Waiting for him to come downstairs and tell me he is ready to pick up his friend from the bus station. This was our first home together. And tonight is our last night with this home as our own. His friend will be moving in for three weeks and then we will move on. We will move to another apartment to call our second home. We had a first home. It was in Los Angeles, but that was my home before it was his so therefore cannot be called “our” first home.
I can’t help but wonder how many times I will have this feeling of leaving a place. Our particular situation won’t allow us much time to get settled anywhere…at least not for many years.
So as I sit here in the last hour of this being truly “our” home, I read the book “Committed” by Elizabeth Gilbert about her memoir on making peace with marriage. And I look forward to something to start happening for us again. Not this in between place we are in. I’d rather be moving and traveling constantly OR be settled. I don’t know how much I like this in between place that is like the 13th floor…almost feeling like it doesn’t exist.
Then again. If I were Haitian, imagine how I would feel. This is nothing compared to that. For that, I am grateful.
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