It has been a little more than a year since I returned from Rhode Island. I am fully aware that I was barely there long enough to breathe it in, but it has been the event that I refer to most frequently when I want to mark the passing of time.
When I returned and moved in with Carolyn, I had very little to offer in the way of filling our shared space. If not for her, I would not have a place to sit on while writing this. I look around me now and realize how much clutter I now contribute. In a year I have managed to fill the space in my room and even expand beyond it to the point that I am annoying myself with my own possessions. Lately I have taken to buying every plant that I see and only just today consolidated a number of succulents into one pot, so that there would be fewer separate tiny green growing things on every surface in the living room.
There are half-read books and magazines everywhere, or at least on the tables. Clothes that I didn't own a year ago need to be folded on the bed that was not mine a year ago, before being put onto shelves that are also new. Granted all of these things are used to some extent. The bed is G & J's, who have another where they live now, the shelves purchased from a friend and then repainted, and the clothes generally from thrift stores.
I have new things besides the plants, too. Nothing fancy or large. Just new socks, underwear, and a few new kitchen utensils. The carboy that I am brewing wine in with friends is new, although I barely knew them last year. Someone else's collection of vinyl is stored in my bedroom until he can find a more permanent home for them, and himself.
Today I stayed home sick from a job that I couldn't have conceived of having a year ago. Time that is spoken for weeks in advance is normal now. I look forward to my time spent without serious commitments, in a way that seems alien from who I was just twelve short months back. Then I wanted nothing more than to be so busy I couldn't think. Then the idea of having to stay home from work sent me into financial panic. Now, I have a cushion. I can breathe. I have more things to take care of, more places to be, people to be with, and I can still breathe more easily than I was able to then.
On the surface it may appear that I have cluttered my life again with possessions and activities, but my reality now is that there is so much more room for me.
May the Force Be with Us
3 days ago