1. Home
"You can do this Char," I whisper to myself as I approach my fifth new home in the matter of three years, knowing it will be my last.
My mom, Bonnie, lived what she referred to as a floating life, landing wherever the wind blew her. A side effect of that lifestyle is that I was drug along to wherever her next "calling" may be. She never felt anchored to any one spot, but for some reason I always felt a pull to the place where my mom was born, but grew to resent. A place more cool and wet than anywhere else I have lived, and a place where my mom fled as soon as she turned 18. Before my mom passed she asked me to allow the wind to blow me the direction my heart truly wanted to go, and that was the La Push reservation in Washington state.
My mother was the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Her long black hair hung straight at her slender waist, and complimented her tanned skin and hickory colored eyes perfectly. She maintained a thin figure because she could never sit still for more than five minutes. The only thing she passed on to me was her black hair, but mine was unbearably curly, and probably came from my biological father. He gave me my apricot colored skin and flat grey eyes; eyes that startled people when they made contact with them. That's why boys typically spent their time looking at the curves of my body instead of my face. These are the only things my biological father and his family gave me, aside from twenty-one years of resentment towards him and insecurities about being loved, which my mother spent her life trying to fix.
As my car rolled to a stop in front of my new home my heart can't help but ache wishing my mom were here and race with excitement thinking of the possibilities that lay before me. My mom grew up in this home, and it is much more my style than the ones she chose when the wind blew us to California for several years. My mom knew I was never at home on the sunny beaches in California, and I wonder if that's why she willed me her childhood home instead of selling it when she first had the chance. Whatever the reason for her not selling, I am glad that she left me this small piece of her.
Tucked into a small patch of woods and surrounded with long grasses and colorful wild flowers sits my little cottage. It is small and cozy, but in need of some work. The logs that form the cottage are covered with thick green moss, which I can make quick work of removing. I smile at the screen, which is protecting a beautiful ocean blue door, knowing that when my mom looked at it she probably dreamt of a warm beach.
I walk up four small stairs and admire my new porch. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. I feel the cool wet air tickling my cheeks, and can smell the fresh moss and soft dirt in the air. Despite the chill in the air, the smell is warm and inviting to me.
Although I know this is where I am meant to be, I can't help but feel that something is still missing. Maybe once I am settled I will adopt a dog for company. My mom always held some weird grudge against dogs, and would never allow me to own one.
I carry my suitcases with ease, and open my new front door. The inside is just as cozy as I imagined. Everything that is not protected by a large white sheet is covered in a layer of dust. Quick and easy cleaning, I thought. I set down my luggage and move to pull the sheets from my furniture. Doing so I reveal a large checkered couch, and chuckle thinking that all of my friends grandparents own a couch just like this... I can't help but wonder what mine were like. Nestled next to the couch are a small wooden end table, a rocking chair, and a plush burgundy recliner all facing a large stone fireplace.
I can't imagine why my mom would ever want to leave this place. This is the home I dreamed of living in my entire life. This is the home where I would want children to grow in. From the window above the kitchen sink I can watch them run outside in the long grass while I cook them dinner. I see myself singing them to sleep in the spare room just down the hall. I can hear the pitter patter of little feet running into my room, to wake up their sleepy parents. I see happiness here. I laugh and shake my head in an attempt to shake the thoughts. This isn't something I've ever known. This isn't something I can ever have.
I pull my mane of a head of hair into the best bun I can manage before unpacking my Bluetooth speaker and turning on some music. Okay Char, a few hours and you'll have this place looking just how you want it, I think to myself in encouragement. Lets get to it.