Home Couch

I'm curled up on a low floral couch I rescued from the Keene Senior Center front porch last year. Theres a strong smell of Mrs Meyers lemon something or other cleaner in the air and I can hear Milford traffic driving past my living room window what seems like inches away.

I have a home now.

M&ms, juice, brown rice noodles, salad. These are the things I've eaten since returning from work. I stood in our tiny kitchen room and watched the late afternoon sun shine over a vase of flowers I brought with me and ate leftover noodles and sauce out of the pan, followed by a leafy salad in a cheap plastic container.

Even though we are far from being settled in and finished cleaning and painting every inch of tattered and dirty walls, I am beginning to feel that I am settling into a way of being that is more permanent than I recall feeling in a long time. So, now I eat and sit on my couch because I am home.