just so you know, universe.

 

Someday, there will be a space in the world, carved out and taking up air, allocated solely for me. For me and all my precious -- though few -- belongings.

Someday, I’ll be able to waltz into the bathroom whenever I please, leave the door open if I please, sing aloud if I please, walk about in a towel for as long as I please. There will be nothing in the tub besides my shower things and I will breathe into all the free space with me in my shower.

Someday, I’ll have an entire refrigerator just for my use. Shelves upon shelves and drawers upon drawers, gloriously empty, waiting to be filled with my lemons and eggs and almond milk and bunches of kale. I’ll leave it open for as long or as short as I like and arrange its contents to please me.

Someday, I’ll have a bedroom with enough space for a real bed in it. For a desk and a chair that can be pulled out fully and a comfy chair too, for dreaming and writing. For a floor space large enough to unfurl a yoga mat and accommodate warrior three pose, easily.

Someday, I’ll get to decide
how often or how rarely the hand towels be washed,
at what point in the evening the television be turned on, if at all,
at what time of day the shades be lifted and closed,
what hangs on the walls and what doesn’t,
how often and in what manner the furniture gets moved around,
whether or not incense be burned,
when to throw away the leftovers,
which political signs be advertised
(there won’t be any).

Someday, I’ll get to come home and flop down onto the couch without a worry of who may be coming or going, of what next catastrophe may occur (whether it's made up in the mind or not), of whether the dog has been fed yet, of the home phone ringing with an unsavory caller on the other end. I will flop down on that couch and the only chatter going on will be my own.

Someday.
Someday soon.

I'm grateful in advance, Universe.