Waiting room
Was listening to some vintage Zero 7, Sia’s band before she became Sia.
Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real
Wasting my time
In the waiting line
Do you believe
In what you see?
And it hit me in a big way that my house isn’t a home anymore.
It’s a waiting room.
I think my big adult child revelation that Momma gave me my freedom awakened my spirit.
I was glad to return to my home that’s midway between Lake Buena Vista and Key West. (Well, Delmonico’s and Baby’s Coffee if we’re being pedantic.)
But.
It’s not a home without Momma.
And while I love living where her and Cocoa’s spirits can easily find me waiting, that’s what it is.
A waiting room.
Waiting for my real life to begin.
Another fine song, this one from Colin Hay.
When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened.
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, up this cobbled lane.
I’m walking in my old footsteps, once again.
I haven’t wanted to move since the price is right.
Or is it?
In the name of cheap rent, I have lousy electricity, few functional light sources, unreliable internet, no dishwasher, no microwave, no cooking fan, popcorn ceilings, toilets and drains that require constant maintenance by me …
But I also have a top-floor apartment (no thundercunts above me, woo), free internet/cable, free use of two pools, a carport, Intracoastal property, a view, a gated community, an elevator, a trash chute next to that elevator, a mailman who brings packages to my door, and a lanai with cute furniture.
Net-net, I win.
So anyone who sees fit to flap their yapper about me being a renter (as if they have credibility on any topic about me) can just go pay their second mortgage in silence.
(I think someone’s just jealous that I live on the water with all the freedom in the world.)
Look, I don’t know where to move to in what’s about to become Peter Thiel’s America after hell gets his boy back (any day now!).
But I have the freedom to go anywhere I want (anywhere I want, just not home).
So why not make the lurkers jealous and go somewhere really good?
I don’t want to say anything would beat this waiting room.
I used to say that about South Ocean Boulevard.
Yet I miss that place most of all.
I always think of Momma when I hear “A House in Nebraska.”
A House on South Ocean.
You and me against the world.
You were my (mom) and I your girl.
We had nothing except each other.
You were my whole world.
Then the day came and you were up and gone.
I am going to be a hot fucking mess when I hear this live.
I still call home that house in Nebraska.
Where we found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.
Where the world was empty, save you and I.
Where you came and I laughed.
And you left, and I cried.
Where you told me even if we died tonight,
That I’d die yours.
They died mine. All of them. Momma, Cokie, Kadie, Maddie.
And I’ll die theirs.
Just not here. But where?