A few days ago Sam and i decided to move a few rooms around in our tiny place. It reminds me of when i was young. When all of my sisters would get the brilliant idea to switch rooms and roommates. We would stay up late and move all our furniture around and tryout out the dresser and desks in new places. There is something to this process that feels so good, a cleansing, a change. It is kind of like tricking yourself into thinking that you are in a new living space, even though the walls and the home are the same. Really, sometimes you just gotta move the couch and buy new pillows, and put the table in the corner at a slant. Here's the thing though, our house is dismantled and i don't know how to put it back together again. The pictures are off of their walls and the shelves are stripped of books and colors. oddly my home mirrors my heart.... as if the things that are a mess in my life don't know how to put themselves back together again. i am tired today, and yesterday and before that. i've given all i can, and i feel so done. it is a sad feeling to say goodbye and to close a door to a life and a friendship and parts of me. but sometimes this happens. The walls get all broken, and the chairs remain empty, frames lose the life that once danced inside them. and the days of sisters laughing and singing falls to a whisper. changing rooms and picking roommates loses its youthful splendor. night falls and sadness rises. and all the rooms are left undone.
