We moved this past weekend.
I was instantly more comfortable in this house than places I’ve lived for years and years. Normally when I’m alone, I have to manage all kinds of irrational fears–including those of the supernatural realm. I spend most of my time looking over my shoulder… mulling over unfamiliar noises. I like to blast the TV to drown out any potentially alarming sounds. When K was here in Hawaii and I was back in NY, I went to bed every night with the TV turned up high. Every morning I would drag myself bleary-eyed into work at the museum with a venti coffee. I was so tired that many times I contemplated buying two ventis at once.
This house is free of bad feelings–free of dark corners or suspicious sounds. I was describing it to a friend and came up with a good metaphor. The house is like a labrador retriever: golden, warm, and solid. It’s like a big dog that embraces anyone entrusted to its care. When we’re out, I’m excited to come home. And when we’re home I’m constantly discovering new things. The other day, bringing in groceries, I peered into a giant pot which I thought was just a pot. Inside it was filled with water and tiny lily pads. Beneath the water I could see movement and when I focused I saw schools of tiny fish and tadpoles. In the morning a lotus blooms and emerges from underneath. As the day goes on it disappears only to come back the next day.