Two days have passed in this new home of mine. Granted I spent a majority of both running around with various errands to attend to, so I can't really say I've fully settled in. Much like how I left it a few weeks ago when I first moved a large portion of my belongings over, there are still piles and tubs dispersed relatively evenly on the floor against the walls. Furniture has yet to cross the threshold, and the rug I took from the attic back in Texas is the closest thing I have to room-adornments at this point in my transition. My bedding and pillows from the last house lay disheveled in a large heap mixed with groceries and girlfriend memorabilia at the center of it. Until my mother and father come up with my bed, I'll be posting up on the couch in the living room, letting the passing trains lull me and the wall hangings to sleep.
The days leading up to finally driving to my new home were more eventful than I'd expected. Which I guess with my life experience, I should have expected by now. Some lessons just come slower than others ya know? One day I was bustling about trying to collect my various checks, the other I was sharing secrets with cherished friends in fresh thrift-store clothes. All this capped off by a late night conversation with my trainee about love.
I spent a long time talking to my trainee about relationships. I told him that you can't be somebody's everything. That you shouldn't be. And why not having all the answers is okay. The way to grow with somebody. Knowing if it's love and how to fight for it. He seemed deeply troubled, and I couldn't tell if the things I imparted on him helped or hurt, but I know with certainty that it made him think. His eyes peeped out from under the charcoal black beanie and flicked across the night from behind my windshield. As if he was mapping out his thoughts by connecting the stars.
Some conversations trail on into nothing like smoke from a cigarette. Billowing on just because it's all it knows how to do. They bear no message or nuance. And others teach lessons to all parties involved-- making great flashes and painting tapestries that mimic Rorschach tests. Their meanings differing between pairs of eyes, no two ever seeing exactly the same thing. We both learned something that night.
Today was pleasant. Waking late from last nights festivities I rolled about for quite some time before remembering I had things to get done today. Shuffling out between the snores of my roommate and her best friend from high school, I hooked the handles of a bag full of cleaning materials and went to work. Hours passed quickly. Sweat collected on the bridge of my nose quietly. At some point or another my other former roommate and her friend swung by to do some pre-check-out cleaning as well. It was very therapeutic despite the occasional bother to pull out a headphone and ask what the others had said. With each stain I scrubbed away or smudge I buffed I was brought back to their understated origin stories. For a break I had a nice chat with a hometown friend before her shift started a few streets away. The check-out was about two marks shy of careless but hey, if that kind of standard is sustained we will surely have no extra charges thrown at us by the complex. All the pseudo alone time was much needed.
Trips to the grocery store are hard to feel any certain way about. When it is a dire need, each aisle in passing only reminds you of the time you wish you weren't spending walking between them but instead doing something fun. Other times, when time is no worry, my mind runs blissfully blank. Mel sent word that she was available to Skype, so I wrapped things up, deposited my bounty and found a nook at the nearby chipotle to eat a relatively healthy dinner and video call her. Afterward I played games for a while and ran from my home tastefully late to a local showing of The Nice Guys.
Funny how no matter how much alone time I do or do not get, I always enjoy exchanging words with her. I think that's how us introverts know when we have a good thing going. Dancing with the daffodils and wandering lone as a cloud, sweet solitude does not dull, but simply does not shine as bright as crescent eyes and dancing lips saying "I love you".
The days leading up to finally driving to my new home were more eventful than I'd expected. Which I guess with my life experience, I should have expected by now. Some lessons just come slower than others ya know? One day I was bustling about trying to collect my various checks, the other I was sharing secrets with cherished friends in fresh thrift-store clothes. All this capped off by a late night conversation with my trainee about love.
I spent a long time talking to my trainee about relationships. I told him that you can't be somebody's everything. That you shouldn't be. And why not having all the answers is okay. The way to grow with somebody. Knowing if it's love and how to fight for it. He seemed deeply troubled, and I couldn't tell if the things I imparted on him helped or hurt, but I know with certainty that it made him think. His eyes peeped out from under the charcoal black beanie and flicked across the night from behind my windshield. As if he was mapping out his thoughts by connecting the stars.
Some conversations trail on into nothing like smoke from a cigarette. Billowing on just because it's all it knows how to do. They bear no message or nuance. And others teach lessons to all parties involved-- making great flashes and painting tapestries that mimic Rorschach tests. Their meanings differing between pairs of eyes, no two ever seeing exactly the same thing. We both learned something that night.
Today was pleasant. Waking late from last nights festivities I rolled about for quite some time before remembering I had things to get done today. Shuffling out between the snores of my roommate and her best friend from high school, I hooked the handles of a bag full of cleaning materials and went to work. Hours passed quickly. Sweat collected on the bridge of my nose quietly. At some point or another my other former roommate and her friend swung by to do some pre-check-out cleaning as well. It was very therapeutic despite the occasional bother to pull out a headphone and ask what the others had said. With each stain I scrubbed away or smudge I buffed I was brought back to their understated origin stories. For a break I had a nice chat with a hometown friend before her shift started a few streets away. The check-out was about two marks shy of careless but hey, if that kind of standard is sustained we will surely have no extra charges thrown at us by the complex. All the pseudo alone time was much needed.
Trips to the grocery store are hard to feel any certain way about. When it is a dire need, each aisle in passing only reminds you of the time you wish you weren't spending walking between them but instead doing something fun. Other times, when time is no worry, my mind runs blissfully blank. Mel sent word that she was available to Skype, so I wrapped things up, deposited my bounty and found a nook at the nearby chipotle to eat a relatively healthy dinner and video call her. Afterward I played games for a while and ran from my home tastefully late to a local showing of The Nice Guys.
Funny how no matter how much alone time I do or do not get, I always enjoy exchanging words with her. I think that's how us introverts know when we have a good thing going. Dancing with the daffodils and wandering lone as a cloud, sweet solitude does not dull, but simply does not shine as bright as crescent eyes and dancing lips saying "I love you".
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