Saturday, August 14, 2010

If you stay somewhere long enough it feels like home. Especially if it is home. You forgive it's flaws, no matter how many or severe they may be and you get attached to it's charms. Even if there might be something much better, the good qualities of what you've got have their claws in you and it's hard to extract them. Part of me wants a new home, something better without crumbly walls and more dust than you can shake a broom at. I want to walk into a new place and feel immediately soothed and at the same time I'm afraid that's exactly what will happen and then I'll have to move.
A private yard that isn't full of loose dirt and broken glass. Bigger closets, a laundry room. Walls without bulges from poorly hung drywall and water damage. But it wouldn't be home yet and it might take a few years before it is. Would I feel happy driving toward it or just sad not to be here?

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