Home Alone

My first night in my new place and I spent it alone. All by myself, but certainly not lonesome. As the clock struck midnight, I grew another year older but unfortunately not any less scared of the dark. Or the boogie man. Or just weird noises that I think are the boogie man.

This house is old, it creeks and sighs a lot, kind of like me. Tonight happened to be an extremely windy night as well. Great. The tree branches scrape up against the windows and all I can think is Freddy Krueger. And then came the rain. I love the rain…but boy is it interesting when it rains around this place. There seems to be thousands of different surfaces surrounding the area for the raindrops to ricochet off of…oversized drops from a rain gutter that's not quite doing its job, tiny little tap dances on the concrete patio outside my room, rain on the window panes mimicking the sounds of me typing on my keyboard, somewhere else a rhythmic clapping sound happening that I am almost convinced can only be an actual human clapping their hands together outside in the rain. I am bold enough to do many things, but throw me in a house that has lots of places to hide and I am a bonifide chickenshit. I think it may stem from the not-so-pleasant things that happened either to me or around me as a child, you just don't recover from that kind of stuff very well, I guess. But that's a whole other story.

I stayed up all night, unpacking boxes, listening to the sounds. Stopping once in a while to familiarize myself with the creepy noises, knowing that I already love my new home, but it's just a matter of time to grow accustomed to its difference, its personality and character, its flaws…and once I do, I am going to love it even more because I will no longer be afraid. I know it is here to protect me, keep me warm and witness my life, unconditionally, as it unfolds under its roof.

The sun is coming up despite the fact that I'm attempting to will it back to bed, just for a little bit longer. I was just getting used to the dark. Even if I didn't have hundreds of boxes to unpack, I would have sat up all night anyway, I just wanted to take it all in. The whole night. See what this old house had to say, have it tell me some stories that begin, "I remember when…" Sleeping wouldn't have allowed me my first whole experience in what seems to be a brand new life. So many changes have come about in my life recently, I'm shocked that I'm not more stressed out. I've packed up my life, cleaned house - literally and figuratively in my life, moved away from La la land, been spending time with someone who, to my amazement, likes to make-out more than I do. (And he's damn good at it too.) Sometimes I have to stop myself and think, Who am I? Nothing here is familiar, it's my stuff, but it's in different places, it's my life, but on a different map, and who IS this guy who holds my hand in his and then leans in to kiss it with all the charm and chivalry of a time long since vanished?

Thirty four is starting out to be an interesting year, not at ALL what I had pictured or planned or predicted, but I'm kinda digging it so far. The only complaint I have about the house, it's F-ing cold! Especially tonight with all the environmental antics going on outside. The heat doesn't seem to want to make its way to my room. This problem, as well as my scaredy cat-ness, could be remedied rather easily if the cute boy would just hurry up and get here…