I have been close enough to being homeless that I never take a roof over my head for granted. Never. Ever. On walks, I instinctively look for the place I would bed down if needed. And whenever the weather is particularly inclement I repeat, like a prayer/chant/mantra–I am glad I have a home. My first two children, who were almost homeless with me, grew up hearing these words. And I would imagine it is something that remains firmly ingrained.
My current apartment is lovely. Good bones, both physically and psychologically. I am grateful I landed here before the pandemic. And also grateful that I have the money to pay rent.
However, this unit is missing a few things that are on my wish list for forever home. A bath tub, for nights like tonight that are not just cold, but bone chillingly damp. A hot bath, good book and a glass of wine are all I need to set the world right sometimes.
A fireplace. That smell, that crackle, and once again, that warmth.
Laundry room. Not even necessarily a room, but someplace other than an earthen floored basement down a rickety staircase.
Fenced in yard. I love walking Kumo but then again, sometimes it would be nice to open a door and simply tell him to go. It is supposed to get down to ten degrees tonight, and the wind is howling. This is the sort of scenario I have in mind. And Kumo? He would love to have some grass to lie in, come spring and summer.
A garden. I so miss growing things. And the incredible meditation that is watering–never a chore, always a damp pleasure.
And now–true pie in the sky. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a studio just outside my door; to be accessed at all times of the day.
To conclude? Shoot the moon. A partner, to share this all with.
A girl can dream 🙂