so, here i am. thanksgiving morning. i am working on a reheated coffee. i have the macaroni and cheese ready to bake, then to pack and take. my makeup is done. the cookies are packed and ready, and have been since about 7 AM. i’m trying, really hard, not to eat any before we go to my aunt’s house for The Meal.
i am sitting at my little writing desk in my dining room with a peppermint candle burning to my left.
this year, more than anything else, i am thankful for my place. my home.
of course i am thankful for my health, my family, eric, our jobs, and the fact that life in general has actually been kind of cooperative lately.
but i haven’t had a home in years. i have been in and out of other people’s homes, on both good and bad terms. i have been trying to cram myself into one bedroom since august of 2001.
i am the kind of person who carries her world, her heart, her experiences, her hopes and dreams and stories. i carry them with me everywhere i go. and so, at the end of the day, i desperately need a safe place to lay them down. i need to live with people that i trust. i need space. i need alone time.
lots of it.
sometimes i need to let stuff pile up on the dining room table.
i have been pining for a home intensely since i moved back to new york in 2007. i have put off everything. eating well, making art, writing, baking, cooking, and moving forward. i just felt that i didn’t have enough space. enough freedom.
but at the end of june, eric got a job in corning. and we found this weird apartment on an alley. we had nothing. no furniture, pots and pans…nothing. we ate dinner on the tiny little desk i am sitting at right now. i assure you, it’s a one-seater.
i don’t know what it is about this month, but i finally feel like it is home. i am here. i have finally let the stress of looking for this place melt away. i am here. and i am so thankful.