It has taken so long to come up with the biggest, baddest, topic to write about. All along, I was looking around–like 360 degrees around–to ascertain what would interest me enough to write constantly. Home. I have not been home in some time. Did you know that you have to know where you are before you can enjoy where you are.
For the past two weeks, I have been here at the apartment, wanting to get out, enjoy the sky, the air, seeing people, interacting a little, and then returning. Everything I do is predicated on the assumption that, at the end, I can go home. But I am just starting to appreciate that. Maybe until now, I was getting back to the apartment and closing the door behind me. Ahh, the feeling is great; but I did not realize how great. Taking somewhere like this for granted is a missed opportunity every time it happens. How would you describe home to you. There are things, and people of course. Not here, there’s just me. I would love to share my living space, or rather, have more space and share that, with someone. But it first needs to be home to me. I should have a connection with this space, if only because it’s mine–not as a possession, but as a blessing. I could just as easily be blessed somewhere else. So it does not have to have this address. I need only to be able to address it as mine.
Oh, what a sacred sphere that surrounds its dweller with tranquility and repose at the beginning and ending of each day! Some say that a pet is precious, or perhaps a mate, or partner, or child. I agree. Any or all of these are to be enjoyed in our shared rooms with no need of locked doors, just windows and blinds or curtains. We keep in our loved ones and keep out the strange; let it wait until tomorrow. And when I return to my precious place and precious ones, I’ll recount the strange places and people encountered out there, from in here.
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