2002-06-12 || 1:08 p.m.

|| the nesting inclination ||

letting my accidental self-reliance melt just a little. not placing quite so much importance on the emergency contacts. living alone means taking extra care not to slip in the bathtub, keeping the phone in arm's distance when the heart is fluttery and funny. having a keen sense of smell for leaking gas, smoke, cosmic waves awry.

last night i lay on the floor of my new bedroom to see if it would talk to me. i have never lived in such a small room. 101 by 104 inches. the bed, an island unto itself, will take 85% of this space. half the room was originally the front porch and the ceiling makes me uneasy: half front porch ceiling with fancy panel and nonoperational porch light fixture, half afterthought stucco with faint memories of hallway and attic. i can't help imagining my head being cut off by the ghost of the front door.

but it is lovely, it still is even now that it is Ours. just. smaller. we pranced from room to room, jumping to touch ceiling, Our ceiling, opening cabinet doors and the refrigerator. turning the dryer on to listen to it spin. brian turned on the bath tub and watched the water pour into Our tub, completely entranced. we tap danced on the kitchen floor.

there are roses and an apple tree and blackberries in the backyard, choked by expanses of square cement. we are making plans for nusturtiums and hydrangea, we are imaginging trellices and an archway and a sitting spot for tea or forties. we traced rollerskating routines across the cement with our fingers, way up on the second floor, where Our back door was flung open.

we are going to timidly start filling it up this weekend. we are going to bring laundry and drink forties on Our back steps. we are going to plan my birthday party, which will take place on that cement, and we are going to lie flat on carpet in every room to draw dotted lines of where Our things will go. ghost couch ghost table ghost sewing machine. ghost portrait above the mantle, ghost ice cream getting frosty in the freezer.

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