My house reflects just how I feel inside.
The walls are bare and empty.
I never opened the box of pictures that hung on my walls.
I never finished unpacking, I got what I had to have from the boxes and left them in the garage.
There is so much more, but nowhere to put it.
Nothing has a permanent resting place.
I put something where I want it and then it disappears.(like the fingernail clippers)
I clean something and turn around and its messy again.
I can see in my mind what I want it to be, but then I open my eyes and I laugh because that's not where the kitchen goes.
I have been here for a year and a half. So sad, I know.
But one thing at a time and slowly it will start feeling like home. Right?
It's all just how I feel. And I have been here for quite a while now.
I am not ready to put the family picture in just yet, but tomorrow I am going to hang a frame on the wall and see how it feels.
