Feeling Like Home

Boxes are getting unpacked, more each day. The plastic walkways I put down to protect the rug are up, and each day looks a little more like home. My studio is the last to be unpacked, but I’ve got enough of the office equipment in place to run my business.

Last night it rained. Maybe the best way to know you are in a new home is the first rain. It sounds different than in the last home, and you look out windows to learn how to measure it. There isn’t a street light here that lights up the night rain. It drums on the skylight in the bathroom and sounds like more rain than I think. I feel new and inexperienced.

Aretha likes the sink

Aretha likes the sink

The bed is the same, but the dark is different. I wake up at 3:15 a.m. and walk slowly on the unfamiliar carpet, down the hallway that is longer, into the dim kitchen. There is work to be done; I am awake but exhausted. There is always tomorrow. I walk past the sleeping computer, its light dimming and brightening, calling me to write. I’ve ignored the blog for more than a week, too tired to think. Now it’s dark, and I’m not alone any more. We are our empty-nest family again. I have a life to rebuild, a career to re-start. I wonder if I was stupid or crazy to think I should start over at my age. Outside it’s lighter than I remember. Not close to sunrise, just the moon shining on the xeriscaping–crushed light desert granite. This is the desert at night.

The cats are adjusting, finding their favorite places. One likes to lie in the bathroom sink, another under the ceiling fan in the kitchen. There is always one on the tile in the entrance, none of them are used to the heat.

It’s dark and I go back to bed in the desert, to sleep a few hours so I can see what a new life looks like tomorrow.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer and a certified creativity coach. She is making a new life in the Phoenix area. (c) 2008 All rights reserved.

One thought on “Feeling Like Home

  1. Our new Simon (10 yr old golden retriever) has decided that his favorite sleeping place is now the middle of the leather living room sofa. He’s not allowed on furniture, but he’s stubborn as well as inventive. He waits until it is dark and quiet and no one around to see him (Gander, the pup, is sleeping on the floor of the master bathroom toilet enclosure), and up he goes. How do we know? I sometimes wake and go for a night prowl and there he is, unapologetic and comfortable. Down he comes until the next time we are not around to catch him. Is he stupid? No: he doesn’t do it during the day, even if we are not home, because the younger dog will see him there or we may look in the window and see him. He does it when he’s pretty sure we’re asleep in our own favorite places, and then he makes his move.

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