I could safely say that I’m almost 60% done with my moving out of the house of my good friend.
This family has taken care of me and treated me as their own since high school and it leaves a nostalgic reverie in the heart and mind as I slowly take out my things out of my room and the house I called home.
Its’ a mixed kind of feeling, as I ready myself in eating one of the last dinners that I’d share with Mommy in that kitchen with the loud television and the constant meow of the three cats that has ravaged most of my shoes to my bags and littered on my bed. (Yes bitterly I’ll miss them too.)
But certain realizations takes place. The realization of being alone and having no home to really belong to. That this place which I will call home will eventually keep me and call my own.
The feeling of owning something of calling it yours exudes a certain feeling of achievement and joy. That by the sweat of your brow you were able to move up little by little step by step. That with the help of God and people who loved you, you get to own something and enjoy it as you live.
But now the sink needs to be cleaned the same with the toilet and the room with the single window where I point the other fan outside to suck out air from my really hot room.
There had been talks of buying an aircon, monoblock chairs, television, but first things first I need to clean the entire house (which I wasn’t able to do completely yet.)
My first sleep in the house was nearly harrowing an experience as I had the pleasure of spraying insecticide under the kitchen sink and murdering at least a hundred small and large cockroaches ( I am not exaggerating) they were that many that when I swept the floor you could pile them up.
I lay on the bed and listened around intently, it was all quiet. I didn’t turn off the night light as my imagination is getting the best of me but then I don’t see the familiar glow of the plastic luminous stars on the ceiling of my bedroom.
After I took my beloved melatonin and nasal spray for my allergic rhinitis I said a simple prayer of thanks and closed my eyes – Yes I’m Home.
The sleep was simple and sweet and when I woke Up I realize how good life is.
Yes its’ good.
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“The realization of being alone and having no home to really belong to.”
–you belong to yourself. methinks no one should ever (fully) belong to someone else except him/herself. once you reconcile with the idea that having other people in your life is about not needing them to be in it but WANTING to be in it…well, i tell you, it’s quite liberating
Hmm… Thats a deep one. But somehow, someway I have to agree with chris on what he wrote on his diary before he died. “Happiness only real when shared”