I open the door to find the rhythm of the crickets,
the unfaltering gaze of the moon in a sky freckled with stars,
the plushness of the earth giving lightly beneath my feet.
And then the hum of the HVAC unit shakes me.
I open my eyes, reminded of this imprisonment called home.
Turning around, I walk back through the doorway that almost assisted my refuge.
Rotating the lock, I am my own keeper.
Yesterday I bought a van. Not just a van- a home. I have been dreaming of living a nomadic lifestyle for years, but it has continued to be a far off fantasy-until now. I traded in my beloved Subaru (Sue Beatrice) for a hardy, white Ford Transit 250. My heart has been pounding for days. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat just thinking about it all. The melodic sound of my pup snoring in my ear, that usually lulls me to sleep, just hasn’t been able to do the trick. My heart, body, and mind are all fighting for my attention. I did it. I EFFING DID IT. I am ecstatic, freaking out, nervous as hell, and pretty sure I’m gonna wake up from this dream at any given moment. I expect to face many challenges along the way, but the payoff will be more than worth it. If you know of any chronic illness facing, homeschooling, remote working, single mamas out there living on the road- please hook me up. Because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Here we go!
I find little comfort inside these four walls.
Behind my dead bolted front door lie
screens that burn my eyes,
dirty bland walls that disgust
me with their lack of effort,
carpet to match worn by years
of complacency and habit.
Broken blinds only present
to allow the teasing of the sun.
I can barely hear the crickets call
between the open and shut of a seemingly
revolving front door.
I think they’re calling for me.
They know my name.
marciehall 