Home Is Where No One Is

Adulthood is Terriffying

I have a lot of past addresses. I’ve accumulated four in the last twelve months alone, in two different counties and four zip codes. Going back five years that number doubles and adds different states to the list of variables. Ten years? I’m an English teacher, I can’t count that high and don’t know how to manage more than two variables.

I left my Mom’s house in Western Massachusetts around age 18 and have since been hopping from dorms to childhood bedrooms to apartments to bedrooms shared with significant others. I haven’t had a bedroom that was truly, indefinitely mine since I was a child, and lord knows children take things like the roof over their head for granted.

As soon as a person is displaced – whether voluntarily or by force – a sense of unrest starts to build. This is Maslovian; the human mind needs a stomping ground, for furious…

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