612 Andamar Way.
The smell of corndogs wafts down the hallway, into my niche of a room in the back right corner of the house.
The teal walls and yellow cupboards bellow out happiness.
Birds banter in the bushes just outside the open window.
Monsters Calling Home on the airwaves.
Dirty clothes strewn about, a cacophony of soiled linen coiling in cliques on the carpet.
Trail mix. Sunscreen. A three-hole punch and a printer. Clothespins. Books: John Muir Trail, Skinny Bitch in the Kitch, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Literacy for the 21st Century, The Cross-Cultural Language and Development Handbook. A stapler. Body-Glide. Keys. Clock. Rubiks cube...a blanket of mess slathers the built in desk, spilling over onto the floor.
Earrings jangle as my head turns to listen. What did the dog do this time?
The velcro wallet with the rainbow unicorn sits plump with old receipts and some one-dollar bills. My last-ditch effort at clinging to childhood.
The door is cracked, distant voices float in.
Five people reside. Dwelling together in harmony. Adults spend nights together, laughing over cheap wine and Taco Bell.
A luke warm hot tub in the backyard. Bath water. But fun nonetheless.
One blue, one brown eyed Nova wanders in the body of a Husky, dines on tennis balls and meaty bones, playing dumb amidst the five.
Creating virtual versions of ourselves on game systems, laughing at noses and eyebrows, nick-naming into the wee hours of the morn.
She is the only other female of the five. An emotional connection made on some other dimensional level. Like ropes shooting out of our hips, winding around one another, side hugging into the future. She gets me.
A bathroom shared with two men. Two separate vanities. Thank God. Polite boys that never leave the seat up. They must have good mothers.
Floods of people have lived in this house through the ages. Their fingerprints live on the walls. Their food splatters paint the baseboards. Their hairs woven into the eight shades of carpet. Their garbage, our treasure.
The Andamar Family.
I have been welcomed with open arms. My flashy finger stache won me a ticket to a carnival of contentment.
It is here that I find peace.
It is here that I seek rejuvenation.
For I embody change.
In this new chapter I sit.
Single.
Student.
Teacher.
Yes, it is a filthy mess. But it is my new home, my new chapter, and I adore it.
The teal walls and yellow cupboards bellow out happiness.
Birds banter in the bushes just outside the open window.
Monsters Calling Home on the airwaves.
Dirty clothes strewn about, a cacophony of soiled linen coiling in cliques on the carpet.
Trail mix. Sunscreen. A three-hole punch and a printer. Clothespins. Books: John Muir Trail, Skinny Bitch in the Kitch, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Literacy for the 21st Century, The Cross-Cultural Language and Development Handbook. A stapler. Body-Glide. Keys. Clock. Rubiks cube...a blanket of mess slathers the built in desk, spilling over onto the floor.
Earrings jangle as my head turns to listen. What did the dog do this time?
The velcro wallet with the rainbow unicorn sits plump with old receipts and some one-dollar bills. My last-ditch effort at clinging to childhood.
The door is cracked, distant voices float in.
Five people reside. Dwelling together in harmony. Adults spend nights together, laughing over cheap wine and Taco Bell.
A luke warm hot tub in the backyard. Bath water. But fun nonetheless.
One blue, one brown eyed Nova wanders in the body of a Husky, dines on tennis balls and meaty bones, playing dumb amidst the five.
Creating virtual versions of ourselves on game systems, laughing at noses and eyebrows, nick-naming into the wee hours of the morn.
She is the only other female of the five. An emotional connection made on some other dimensional level. Like ropes shooting out of our hips, winding around one another, side hugging into the future. She gets me.
A bathroom shared with two men. Two separate vanities. Thank God. Polite boys that never leave the seat up. They must have good mothers.
Floods of people have lived in this house through the ages. Their fingerprints live on the walls. Their food splatters paint the baseboards. Their hairs woven into the eight shades of carpet. Their garbage, our treasure.
The Andamar Family.
I have been welcomed with open arms. My flashy finger stache won me a ticket to a carnival of contentment.
It is here that I find peace.
It is here that I seek rejuvenation.
For I embody change.
In this new chapter I sit.
Single.
Student.
Teacher.
Yes, it is a filthy mess. But it is my new home, my new chapter, and I adore it.
Just a silly bulletin board I made for the elementary school I'm student teaching at.
posted by Sabrina @ 12:41 PM
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