The first morning at my new home, I walked out of my room and saw the gentle sunlight wiggle its way through the blinds and onto the living room floor. The floor was littered with several boxes and scattered picture frames, bags, clothes, and other items that adorned the disorganized mess left after the move the day before.
A certain sense of accomplishment and independence slowly crept into me as I scanned the rest of my home, analyzing every corner of the duplex that was now mine and mine alone.
As I looked at the kitchen and scanned the fridge, the stove and then the sink, I saw a small pile dishes made up of a pot, a plate, a glass and silverware.
At that moment I realized that pile was mine to wash and mine alone.
I looked out the window at the leaves scattered around my small yard. I looked at the bath, the sink, the toilet and realized there was no one else to help me clean this whole place.
The maintenance, the bills and all chores and responsibilities related to this duplex were now mine, and mine alone.
Suddenly the small one-bedroom duplex felt like it was growing before my eyes, and I felt small. A chill traveled down my spine and a slight panic came over me.
I found a small space amid the litter in the living room and laid down for a few minutes, petting the carpet and looking up at the empty walls.
“What am I going to do with this place,” I asked myself.
It”s easy to make plans and fantasize about growing up and getting your own place, we just tend to ignore the cleanup and the bills.
After a few minutes, the room inched its way to shrink to its original size and the panic began to fade.
I thought about my plans and where I saw myself at this point in life, and I realized I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I am a young man trying to make it out on his own, and getting my own place is certainly part of that path.
My new home is like a blank canvas, and I get to make of it what I want.
I got up and began to organize the mess I had willingly stepped into. I looked around and found a place for the little furniture I owned.
I put pictures and posters on the walls and slowly the place started to take shape.
After a few metaphorical strokes on my blank canvas, the image I had created of my new home stepped out of the blur and into focus. Most of it was just a vision still in the future, but it was there.
And once again, maybe more for bad than for good, I forgot about the dishes in the sink.
Isaac Brambila is a staff reporter/ associate editor for Lake County Publishing. He can be reached at 263-5636 ex. 37 or at ibrambila@record-bee.com.
