It was earlier this week, while I was washing the dishes and Holden was playing with toys in the living room while a Pandora station played that I sighed and thought, “this feels like home.” You know: a place to just be. A place that is comfortable. A place where you don’t have to pretend.
My computer is plugged in now, my furniture is all moved into place. I decorated the Christmas tree. I bought plants which I water each morning. I keep this place so immaculately clean.
Days are falling into a rhythm.
Brandon tells me where he is going to spend each night, and he’s always right.
I had worried about living on my own because of all the administrative work it would require. Steve has always taken care of scheduling repairs, remembering oil changes, paying bills, grocery shopping.
I thought I hated all that stuff. Well it’s true I don’t necessarily like it but it’s also not that awful. I took Holden to the grocery store on Monday when it was quiet. I registered for a class without asking Steve to do it for me. And then today: I went and got my car door repaired on my own. I took care of it all.
Now I’m going to make myself a nice sandwich and eat it on the patio while the sun hits my face.
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