4/22/2015 When is Your House a Home? and more poems.

Aleathia says:

We have lived in this house for over a year.  I loved it the moment I stepped inside with all it's early 20th century charm, dark wood detail, French doors, and gorgeous view.  It screamed home and possibility to me.  I liked that it was lived in by generations of one family.

Since we have lived here we have made friends with the neighbors and gotten to know the good and bad parts of the neighborhood.  We have fallen in love with the river again as we see it everyday burgeoning with the hills behind.  At night we can see stars and the tracts of lights in the city.  We have enjoyed the 5 minute walk downtown to any event we choose or to just window shop.  We get more date nights being able to leave the car in the driveway.

The other day Michael brought up something very interesting that I had not really thought of.  He mentioned that both of us have spent our lives living in apartments since we went out on our own. This consists of white walls and fixtures and amenities beyond your control.  There is no landscaping or upkeep.  You pay your money and leave the space the way the owner wants it until you move on to the next place.

Both of us have done very little to this house.  We have not painted yet or fixed the plaster.  We haven't started upgrading any of the rooms.  The upstairs needs a lot of overhaul as it is the oldest part of the house.   The carpets look like they are from 1970 and the wall colors too:  baby blue, mint green, and oh dear sweet Jesus peach.  The kitchen still has 80's wallpaper and the master bathroom is grandma pink.  None of these things speak to our personalities.  Why haven't we changed anything?

I have had some time to think about this since it was presented to me and I think I know why.  First of all, we aren't used to the freedom of being able to change the environment in a drastic way.  Then there is the sheer enormity of things that need to be done versus the things that we would like to get done.  They cost money, but mostly they cost time.  Our schedules do more conflicting than anything these days which makes it hard to think about starting a big project.

Having a home also requires understanding who you are as an individual and who you are as a partner.  Having a home is much like starting a new relationship.  There is the honeymoon period where everything is awesome and you feel invincible which slowly gives way to something more livable and comfortable....something that needs re-inventing every so often.  Michael and I have lived together for nearly 4 years, but the bulk of that was in the apartment.  It is hard to understand a person's aesthetic in a place that is sterile and unchangeable.

Now we have lived in the house for almost a year and a half and the patterns of who we are are starting to emerge better.  This is our place, not my place where he moved in to.  We each have our OCD problems and sometimes they overlap.  Most of the time we have to laugh about them and find creative solutions on where to put things.

Last week we started making changes.  We had all the existing items left over from the previous owners hauled away in addition to garbage that we created over the winter.  Michael ripped out a 20 foot section of wood and saw horses to reveal a dirt floor that needed filling and most likely the source of the musty/moldy smell in the basement.  He started fixing up his workshop.  I am letting go of old items and slowly changing them out for upgrades in the style of my choosing.  We have made plans to landscape the yard and he is going to build me a garden box for the spring.  It feels good to be finding our way, to be growing together.  This grace period where we did nothing has helped to let ideas set in and take root.  I look forward to a productive summer.


Here are some more poems from the month.  I have fallen gravely behind:

Honest Abe

for Cat

We have never met
or even talked on the phone
but somehow we can see ourselves
as neighbors; the kind of neighbor
that shares sugar and kids stories
and heartache over a sewing machine.

The other day she told me
she wished I lived closer
so we could make every dish
that President Lincoln ever cooked.

Inside I smiled like a schoolgirl
making a new friend, smiled
for being accepted into a secret,
as I have admired her style
and conviction and her lack of compromise
concerning ideals in the face of society.

I can see us in the kitchen
with our handmade aprons
and complicated recipes
discussing the merits
of Honest Abe over
great coffee and the sound
of heart felt laughter.

Aleathia Drehmer 2015

April 14, 2015

Straightening

In the still parts
of the night
the smell of the hot
iron comforts the anxiety
flashing through neurons.

The steam lifts up
as the heat makes
geometrics and flowers
smooth like magic.

It is perfection
                         back and forth
steam and heat
                         back and forth
steam and heat
straightening
   my soul
for sleeping.

Aleathia Drehmer 2015

April 15, 2015

Swing Spider, Swing

When she died
I went back
to the park
where my laughter
still lived in the trees.

I used to climb
the giant dome
and she never
seemed afraid
for me, though
I trembled inside
scared of being
a disappointment.

Sometimes she would
let me sit on her lap
our legs in opposite directions
like a spider, she would say,
and we would fly so high
and the world would fade
into sky and birds and trees
and invincible laughter.

When she died
I went back
to the park
where my laughter
still lived in the trees.

Aleathia Drehmer 2015

April 17, 2015