Tag Archives: home

I like it here.

A few days ago Stephanie asked me, “what in your life are you happy about.  Right now?”

The question–so simple, yet so deeply complicated–caught me off-guard.  And of course I didn’t have an immidate answer.  I’m in one of those “so close but not yet” stages: awaiting the end of the semester (stress…) and a completely different type of schedule next semester (joy!), quitting my job (sad) but will soon have more time (awesome!), Christmas is coming and there is giddy anticipation, mom&dad are moving but in the meantime there is much work to be done, someday soon I’m going to have to start thinking about finding a job (which is exciting, but endlessly tiring).  The list could go on and on.

“My apartment,” I answered.  Such a lame thing to find happiness in.  But it is consistent.  And home.  And decorated the way I like.  I’m getting ready to start this period of my life all over again, but at least I have a home….for now.  And someone there who is willing to wait for me to eat dinner.

Also.  Design*Sponge makes me happy.


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I’m at home in the routine

I’m on a suburban retreat for the weekend–hiding out in my parents’ house and joining their in their normal routine: dinner out Friday night (to bed by 9pm sharp), errands Saturday, sunrise mass, breakfast at the “Star”,  Sunday night pizza and a movie.  It is a routine I have grown to love and won’t let them stray from when I come home.  They always complain that they’re being lame by going to bed so early…but I secretly revel in the routine.

Today they finalized an offer for a new home.  Perhaps my feelings will change on moving day, but my mom was surprised when I said that I didn’t have much of an emotional attachment to the present home–despite the fact that I’ve lived here since I was eight.  That means birthday parties, sleep overs, prom pictures, and the majority of my Christmases have occurred under this roof.

But, I know that home is where the dinner table is–as long as they’re there with the bottle of wine and we’re all asleep before SNL comes on.


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“If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspision love actually is all around”

I actually knew the day it was over.  I just fought it until the bitter end, though you’d given up long before I had understood.  I stepped off the plane hoping for you to be there.  But you were not.  And that was it; with that action you’d closed our book.

Remembering that your favorite movie featured the arrivals gate of an airport, perhaps the happiest place on earth, I had this silent hope that you would be there waiting for me.  I know.  It was probably too much to ask; but I’d passed through so many times before, often alone, and this time I wanted to see your face there to greet me.  To take me home.

There was a sadness as I came through customs and exited the gate–but it was more a slap of reality.  I rode the train home in silence wondering what the next step would be.

I no longer think of you with pangs of hurt.  It was a difficult time, and I remember thinking, “I will one day look back and wonder how the hell I made it through.”  And I do.  I wonder how I made it through.  But I did.  And I have you to thank for the strength that I gained.

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I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you sitting there.

Went out with mom&dad as an “ode to short week/tomorrow is thanksgiving and we’re NOT cooking” dinner.  We went to a favorite sports bar and sat at a cozy table nuzzled between the bar and the row of high-top tables along the edge of the room.  Near the end of dinner a group of Black Wednesdayers started taking over the high-top next to us.  Thats cool.  The table was open. Whatevs.
Half of the group remained at the bar.  They’d obviously (obviously, as in, I’d watched them) had a shot or two.  It was about the time that we got our bill that they started shouting to their friends, still at the bar.  And then there’s us.  We’re in the middle.  “HEY!  JOHN!  Hey John!”  “YEAH!  GET ME ONE TOO!”

This went on for a while and I was about ready to say something to them when my mom looks up and says, “Welp, it is time to go.”  We all know why.  It is then that my dad starts yelling our names across the table to us.  “LORI!”  “KATE!”  “TIME TO GO!”

Take that.  We’re so bad(z).

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lime and frozen, please

I failed to mention that I went home this past weekend. I gave my mom and dad strict orders a number of weeks ago NOT to change their usual Friday ritual of the local mexican place and margaritas.

They did not. And it was a superb night, with great times had by all.

I like that I can go home, and even though most of my stuff now resides in an apartment, I still feel like the bed in which I sleep is my own. And I will always be welcome there–even if “my room” happens to take shape somewhere else. I think it might have something to do with the fact I picked out the sheets.

They love me there. And I can always count on that, which is comforting for someone who can never seem to sit still.


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We have a lot of good ideas (yet again).

Tea and bread on the porch

We weren’t invited.  But we didn’t care.  Your porch is our home, too.


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NY sleeps alone tonight

I’ve been thinking about New York lately.  Wondering if she misses me and feels a bit replaced.

Chicago is a great city.  A fabulous city.  But it is not New York.  I miss the corner grocers with endless fruit and flowers that made my face light up, no matter how hard the day had been.  I miss that awful smell that came when descending into the subway.  I miss the substantial transfers that only seem to exist here at Clark/Lake.  I. miss. the cupcakes.  And the black-and-white cookies.  I miss the hobos that sing and do acrobatics on the subway cars.

In choosing a place to live I remember saying that if New York was in my future it would make itself known.  “I could always get an internship for the summer.”  “I could still look into a second masters.”  “There are jobs in New York.”  I said.  But I also knew that my “yes” to Chicago was a “no” to the Big Apple.  Not that I still can’t go–but my life has direction and meaning here now.  I’d rather finish grad school than take a summer off.  I’m pretty antsy not to be in school anymore and the thought of another degree is much less appealing than a job.  Let’s be serious–there aren’t really library jobs anywhere, most especially New York.

Plus.  New York doesn’t have Deutschs.

And worst of all, I’m happy here.


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