Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Our Houses

I feel really really sad tonight.  Cool spring evenings remind me of cook outs with our friends.  Sitting together outside, having the temperature drop.  TJ loved it when it was cool outside; he'd always let me wear his warm fleece jacket.  I'd bury myself in it.  Enveloped in the residual warmth of his body and scent of his skin.  I'd nuzzle deep and lean into him.  Occasionally he'd drop his head down to kiss my temple.  It was the most simple, yet decadent pleasure.  I was never happier than I was with my head resting on his chest, feeling his heavy arm draped over me.

I think today will be the last time I go to my Grandparent's house on Market Street.  It's been sold and we need to be out by Friday.  My dad and brother are going to the beach house to unload the furniture that my grandmother still wants to keep.  I took my time walking around inside today, feeling attached and yet detached.  The house is more than familiar, but with all of the empty rooms and wide open spaces it was like a new place to me.  I had always imagined that TJ and I would buy it.  It’s in a good school district and I imagined us living there.  I could practically see our children running through the yard.  When it was decided to sell, I had no way to purchase it.  No amount of hoping and praying would have been enough for me to afford it.  So I had to give up yet another dream of mine.  Even after TJ died I could still imagine myself living there with my kitties.  Seeing it so empty today I couldn't help but imagine what my things would look like inside.  How I would decorate it.  But it's an impossibility.  I stood in the empty dining room and cried.  The hardwood floors were so beautiful.  I’d never seen them without the practically wall to wall oriental rugs.  I walked into the kitchen and cried to my dad and while he hugged me I found myself saying over and over “I wish I could have bought this house.  The floors are so nice.”

And a year ago today I was told to move out of the house TJ and I were renting.  A year ago I was faced with my own emotionally draining eviction.  I didn't even make the connection until I continued working on my book tonight.  I went by my grandparents today on a whim; to see if those hard working boys needed some lunch.  I was in the neighborhood, anyway.  It's curious to me now to experience these two moves, separated in time, but not date, and yet so weightily connected.


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