Lonely Creatures
The house greets me upon my return and speaks to me at night with the same creaking doors and rattling ventilation, but I can’t tell if I’m sorry for myself or for the way I keep itching to run away from it. It feels so wistful; sitting on the floor, humming and pretending I’m not here, but one time, I saw beaches with friends, tops down and clawfoot tubs in cabins. I imagined places I’ve never been before, falling asleep shortly after. Something told me to look for them. Are they deep in a forest or out in the open, up in the mountains? Under the ocean? I felt things when I searched, I did. I do.
But are they supposed to make me feel better or worse?
When the days begin, I turn off the ceiling fan and the windows are opened, albeit cold. Sleepier than usual easing closer to dormancy, the same way the trees let it all go and brace for the discomfort awaiting them. I, prepare for laziness I, prepare to not want to speak much but to still be of company. A necessary curse for someone whose skin wants its friends in the Northeast or on the West Coast. The ones above and overseas.
But I am no one’s skin.
I shower or bathe depending on if I need to go under or not, and there is no music playing. There are no more songbirds and I find myself missing them. Where did they go? Now I must sing to myself in these rooms, all alone. And usually the neighbor’s dog barks at me from across the street, but even he’s not out there. Not even on my morning walks.
And I walk slowly. Still no music, just looking for the world’s voice, but she isn’t speaking either. I feel strange not interacting with anyone or anything; this isn’t normal. I’ve been engaging with something or someone for as long as I can remember. Not lately. Oblivious now, to everything except the German Shepherd near the park. He’s young, and noisy. New to this world, too. And someone didn’t clean up behind themselves, although I don’t expect much from my neighborhood or the people in it. This isn’t New York or Paris, or even Chicago, and that disgusts me.
I walked a mile or more that day. The loop is not long, so I meandered in a circle for over an hour. At some point, I decided to record my thoughts. Rambling about as they came and went.
“I’ll sit on the swing. I love that there are rarely any clouds in the fall and winter; there’s no moisture here. I wonder what my friends are going to be up to these months. Things are changing. They’re already different, we feel it.”
“A small orange leaf spirals towards the ground, the sun hugs the left side of my face and body. Most of these trees are yellow-green and there’s a plane very far away in the right side of the sky. A silver sliver.”
“No people, there are cars a street over. I’m imagining that they’re automated and thought “I feel like the last person in the world. I would never love this for long.”
‘Grand Boulevards’ by Yumi Zouma played.
Right when I got up to continue walking, they sang— “And I think I’m all worn out from the nights I’ve spent alone”— and I said,
“I think I’m getting cold.”
Some days pass, become Monday, and the house feels the same. I can’t turn the heat up or else it gets angry with me. I feel myself becoming a little stiff, a little clumsy— as if I’m falling ill— so the couch and I become one. The afternoons aren’t tender like they felt before, and there’s not much sunlight left. It’s leaving me too, so I plead. Do take me with you. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. You should stay here, with me and the coffee. My favorite mug with my special spoon. Make it all feel like it once did. Before, when I belonged here.
I’ve been thinking of the way Mexico City is affordable to visit most times of the year, and if I play my cards right, I could run away for a few months. I could fall in love with a greater distance the same way this one lady did in a book I can’t find. She got so far away from everything she just never came back, and no one looked for her. I think about how Japan offers some of the best residencies in the world, and I could definitely get in. Solidifying my chances of being a day ahead of everyone else for I don’t know how long. More time away and free, more time free of these walls. Let me out. I need to see what the world is up to, I have to hear what they have to say and I want to see something I've dreamt up. I said—Let. Me Out! How’s the food? The new! I just need something except me to be new!
The house doesn’t change whether I do or not. No amount of intelligence or wit—creativity or patience—will give me more room to form. The blinds are the same as they were when I was 17. I’ve always wanted curtains. The lamps are collecting dust constantly but I’ve always wanted sconces. There are items falling out of the pantry and the shelves are buckling under the weight of the wasted space. This place, I feel something for it; something close to empathy, because I believe we feel the same.
We are both too old for this.
Then I woke up one morning and it all felt different. Like a hallucination. The chickadees paid us a visit and there was glitter on the rooftops until the sun came crawling back. The yard is full of crunchy things and the squirrels are always fighting. Digging holes in my mulch then running and hiding. It is even quieter than days before and the world—I can hear the world again. It’s telling me to just “be”. And you still look the same. The holes in your awning growing, I would plant flowers for you, but no one pays much attention to you. Besides, there’s not much time. I made plans to have coffee with the sun.
She doesn’t stay for long like she used to, but she listens to what I need. Before it all starts to feel the same, I plead. Before you go and leave me with the place I call home, what does New York look like now? The cities. Are they different than how I remember them? And the Pacific Coast Highway, how incredible it is. My friends have seen it but, you know I’ve never been. I don’t know where the water is. You know, the pretty water. Close to the clawfoot tubs in the cabins, the forests, the places you know I’ve dreamed.
Come with me one day, to see.
Before I can’t get up and go like the place I call home.
I hear they’re all so beautiful.
I sure would love to see.
Let’s got to Mexico City together 🥹🫰
🫴🏿♥️