The place is a mess, but the paper work is signed.
I balance my whole life on a tender and delicate idea.
Boxes unpack and things are hung. Floors swept and wiped. I peek around corners and try to learn the lay out. I see myself in new windows and flick the blinds open and closed. The sound is slightly different. The light too. The size, all it’s own.
Just like you.
This is yours. And somewhat mine. And that is nice and also scary. I still feel like the whole world is moving so fast and there is no way to calm it down. Only hold on and do my best. My best is as dusty as the eves of the rooms.
I read a quote that said “If you wait until you are ready, you will never do it.” Well, I don’t disagree. I don’t know if one is every ready for such things.
But here you are. And here am I. And although the place is a wreck and so are we. Strung out on bad food, homesickness in different degrees and a deep desire to do it right: I can officially say ‘Welcome Home’.
It’s not perfect. It’s not the fanfare movies make it out to be. It just is, and that may be enough.
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