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Is this home?
Oct. 23rd, 2004 12:00 pmMom asked if I would be interested in buying the trailer today.
"It's really because of you that we found it," she said. It's true. I came back from two years in Boston to live in a crowded two bedroom duplex with my mother and my brother. Someone had to sleep on the living room floor. I was unemployed, and still grieving for having to leave Boston. I didn't really want to come home, but I knew I had to do it. My mother was often ill, had job troubles of her own, and I couldn't afford college or the cost of life on the other side of the country. That summer, while I looked for a job, I decided we had to start treating the duplex like a home, or the hearth gods would never think us worthy of something truly our own.
We were in the trailer by Christmas. I was totally against the idea at first, hoping instead for a little cottage. A home, in the most conventional sense of the word. But the trailer was all we could afford; and it was beautiful, and almost new. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, all new appliances. The heat hadn't been hooked up yet, but we set up a tree and celebrated Christmas there anyway, it was one of the best Christmas presents I have ever received. The smell of pine needles, and all the various polymers degassing. It was the first time we'd ever all had our own rooms.
Moving back her has been such a boon to me. And it has also been wonderful knowing that it has helped ease my mother's financial burden. I've worried about it selling; where I'll go, what I'll do; but mostly I have just felt incredibly blest, and a little overwhelmed.
Lately, the responsibility of living here has weighed on me quite heavily; almost as though I'M responsible for it not selling. Things have gotten pretty bad over the past few weeks. I think I'm a little depressed. The dishes, laundry, and clutter aren't dealt with as efficiently as they should be. I've been dreaming about living in the little dowager cottage on the Moler's property, mostly because the house is too big for one person, and I'm more than a little overwhelmed by the yard.
I'm a little offended she'd offer, almost as though she is shirking her own duty and financial burden. But I know that wasn't her intention in offering.
And honestly, her offer made me cry. Because part of me would like nothing more than to stay a little while. Make this place my starter home. But I can't do it alone. Currently I pay approximately $400/mo for the lot rent. The mortgage and utilities would bring it to $1000/mo, which is beyond my financial reach, (but a bargain in this area for a place this size, with a nice yard, and easy access to a nice little nature path). I could do it if I got a roommate, but I'm not sure I want that either...
More than anything it reminded me of how much I want to be able to share my life with someone. And how I had secret hopes a certain someone might be moving back to Colorado soon and sharing it with me; hopes that were evaporated by a much needed dose of reality earlier this week.
I don't know what I should do now, but I have an overriding sense that the gods are at hand yet again. They do not like a lack of faith or commitment. Maybe if I stop treating this place like a temporary shelter, and give it some of the love and care it deserves I will be rewarded again.
I've been here six months and so much has been left undone. So much is still undone from when I first arrived. It's time to solve some of these issues and clear the path for whatever the future may bring.
I'm so scared, and beginning to think as much as I have enjoyed it, our lives are not meant to be lived alone. I am also questioning how much choice we have in the matter, because I know after three incredibly difficult years with someone who was not my love, in a place that was not my home, that there are worse things than being alone.
S
"It's really because of you that we found it," she said. It's true. I came back from two years in Boston to live in a crowded two bedroom duplex with my mother and my brother. Someone had to sleep on the living room floor. I was unemployed, and still grieving for having to leave Boston. I didn't really want to come home, but I knew I had to do it. My mother was often ill, had job troubles of her own, and I couldn't afford college or the cost of life on the other side of the country. That summer, while I looked for a job, I decided we had to start treating the duplex like a home, or the hearth gods would never think us worthy of something truly our own.
We were in the trailer by Christmas. I was totally against the idea at first, hoping instead for a little cottage. A home, in the most conventional sense of the word. But the trailer was all we could afford; and it was beautiful, and almost new. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, all new appliances. The heat hadn't been hooked up yet, but we set up a tree and celebrated Christmas there anyway, it was one of the best Christmas presents I have ever received. The smell of pine needles, and all the various polymers degassing. It was the first time we'd ever all had our own rooms.
Moving back her has been such a boon to me. And it has also been wonderful knowing that it has helped ease my mother's financial burden. I've worried about it selling; where I'll go, what I'll do; but mostly I have just felt incredibly blest, and a little overwhelmed.
Lately, the responsibility of living here has weighed on me quite heavily; almost as though I'M responsible for it not selling. Things have gotten pretty bad over the past few weeks. I think I'm a little depressed. The dishes, laundry, and clutter aren't dealt with as efficiently as they should be. I've been dreaming about living in the little dowager cottage on the Moler's property, mostly because the house is too big for one person, and I'm more than a little overwhelmed by the yard.
I'm a little offended she'd offer, almost as though she is shirking her own duty and financial burden. But I know that wasn't her intention in offering.
And honestly, her offer made me cry. Because part of me would like nothing more than to stay a little while. Make this place my starter home. But I can't do it alone. Currently I pay approximately $400/mo for the lot rent. The mortgage and utilities would bring it to $1000/mo, which is beyond my financial reach, (but a bargain in this area for a place this size, with a nice yard, and easy access to a nice little nature path). I could do it if I got a roommate, but I'm not sure I want that either...
More than anything it reminded me of how much I want to be able to share my life with someone. And how I had secret hopes a certain someone might be moving back to Colorado soon and sharing it with me; hopes that were evaporated by a much needed dose of reality earlier this week.
I don't know what I should do now, but I have an overriding sense that the gods are at hand yet again. They do not like a lack of faith or commitment. Maybe if I stop treating this place like a temporary shelter, and give it some of the love and care it deserves I will be rewarded again.
I've been here six months and so much has been left undone. So much is still undone from when I first arrived. It's time to solve some of these issues and clear the path for whatever the future may bring.
I'm so scared, and beginning to think as much as I have enjoyed it, our lives are not meant to be lived alone. I am also questioning how much choice we have in the matter, because I know after three incredibly difficult years with someone who was not my love, in a place that was not my home, that there are worse things than being alone.
S
