Looking for a place to lay my head tonight.
It isn’t that I haven’t paid rent this month, nor that I don’t have a key, or spot in the garage for my vehicle…
Circumstances make me feel a great consternation being there.
Where I am not wanted.
There are options, none of which seem equal to my own place, space to spread-out and be shit-eating-grin-happy in the middle of my own stuff. My life memories, collection of furnishings, tokens of satisfaction in my past, bring deep quivering happiness. I could be surrounded by my unread books, worn textiles, colorful pillows, crystals from my days in South America, snipers of momentos that scrape the surface of freedom. Soon.
What about the others, who do not have a cell phone plan, ability to communicate in English comfortably, understand the pathway to a successful application, have the funds in savings to make the move, confidence to generate the monthly rental, utilities, food, gas, coffee and the like?
How about their inability to be open to a chance meeting with things people no longer need or want, happy to pass them along to someone that will adore the goods?
I am fortunate, and ever-so-grateful to be fortunate.
Willing and able to navigate the system of search-to-rental-to-move-in.
I don’t have a bed, but secure in knowing I can figure that out, at some point.
No tv either, which for some, equates with not having a toothbrush or perhaps an espresso machine.
There’s always more.
I promise you.
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