I need this space like fucking air,
My carpet stained with a gravy splodge
From a roasted chicken dinner with a friend,
And that blackened circle on the counter top;
That place where I burnt the plastic with a pan.
The front door that doesn’t work all that well,
It opens if I ram my shoulder up against it when
I’m coming in, laden with two shopping bags,
(I can only buy two bags worth at a time because
There’s only space for that, in my tiny cupboard,
Fridge and freezer), so just forget a weekly shop.
But this shitty little place, it’s mine;
And coming back from days away, is kinda like resurfacing,
Taking one deep breath, luxuriously.
I need this space to live, to walk the world,
Knowing that I have this little slice of worlds
Carved up by men much richer than I’ll ever be.
But I own this, and for this I am glad.
I’m back from holiday and I feel like I’ve just sunk into the softest bed. This place I call home, is my safe space and it’s only when you are away for a little while that you realise just how much you need that space.
As you may know, my parents are divorcing at the moment and my dad phoned to ask if I want to club together and buy a place with him and his part of the divorce settlement. My heart sank. I don’t want to hurt him but I also want to keep this little slice of the world that is my own.
I’ve worked so hard over the past four years to get sober, stand on my own two feet and get a job that I’m really proud of, and moving back in with my dad will take so much of that away from me. I wish I was tougher and could just tell him that I want to stay in my own little space. This really sucks, but it’s made me realise just how much I need this place.
10 thoughts on “Home”
I think we all have our familiar spaces like that, Rachel. As you say, they are home to us. They hold our stories and keep our secrets, They comfort us, too. Stains or not, burn marks or not, who cares? it’s home.
I know. The imperfections are actually the thing that you end up loving the most. I see some of those minimalist Instagram houses and they look great but I don’t think I could ever live there!
My house is only big enough for two bags of shopping too, but like you say, it’s mine and I love it. Hope you can be strong with your dad, I’m sure he will understand.
I must change homes; and though I never liked my place, I was here for several years and that means something. We need our places.
We all have our safe spaces. If you tell your dad, I’m sure he’ll understand.
Yes, I think I build things up in my mind, thinking that people will be really hurt by my decisions when really they don’t mind all that much.
I hope so. He’s a lovely man and I think I just feel sorry for him for all he has been through these past few years.
You are strong enough to tell him that. But perhaps to preface it with kind words and gratitude, not to hurt his feelings (I expect they’ve been hurt enough with the divorce)
Yes, I imagine it won’t bother him anyway and it’s just me worrying about his reaction..
Chill. You know what to do