House and Home

Continuing my series of contemplations in this home, Subang Jaya.

This will be my last Eid in this house. Family and friends within reach, the place where I sleep the night prior and tumble out of bed half asleep the morning of, rushing, usually rushing to get to wherever it is on time.

The place I return to when all the visiting is done, the idle chatter and the catching up with relatives I don't particularly care for.

There are some who, on certain years, have surprised me. Some who have amused me.

I realised talking to Mils and Mooshoo yesterday evening that family is an amazing and complex thing. I found out things I never knew, and we recounted stuff we all knew, exchanged stories to round out each other's pictures of this place and people we come from.

I suppose no one ever really knows the whole story of where they come from. Lots of it is swallowed by time, age differences, being too young to understand and fading memories or the desire to keep bygones as bygones.

This evening I am alone, Athena chasing spirits in the front yard, egged on by the neighbour's second litter of Husky puppies. They are so noisy those little things.

Athena is my guardian spirit. She always knows when I need her. And she sometimes needs me too, which I appreciate and treasure.

I am still amazed at how, at my lowest, she was instinctively there for me, emotionally, in her own quiet way that didn't need words. That dog can say more than most people, I tell you. And in the most clear, concise way too.

I don't know what I will do when she is gone. I will feel as if a hole has opened up within me. I don't know that any human being can fill that void. Seriously. Because hers is a devotion without question, that will be there for you no matter what. No. Matter. What.

Unlike humans. They don't make us like dogs.

Evening is still my favourite part of the day. Especially in this, my home. My first real, home that I have fashioned for myself.

I will miss it. It has been good to me. Yet to stay is not something I contemplate too long, simply because it would mean a whole host of other things that get left on a shelf or put in a cupboard for "What Ifs".

Thank you, house and home, for being so good to me. Thank you.

Giving Up

Last night we fought again.

I am so tired of wanting you and knowing you do not want me.

I don't know what else to say.

That you know it is important to me, but you don't seem to place priority on the issue is just to me, plain bullshit.

If you cared for me enough, you would listen, and I mean really listen, to what I have to say and take concrete steps to rectify the issue.

But instead you just say you're trying, in general terms, without any specificity, and ask me to have faith.

Well, it's been a year and a half.

And it's getting worse. Now the presence of someone else in too close proximity, on top of your lack of sleep, tiredness, stress, worries and God knows what else is also an issue. And you don't like me making love to you. You only like it one way.

I don't know if I can live like this. Or want to. Seriously.

I don't like the fact that each night I apparently make you suffer, fearing what will happen if you just turn around and fall asleep. I suppose you don't choose to count the many, many nights when I just bite my tongue and wish that one day you will do things my way.

Actually, I feel downright ridiculous to be even arguing about something like this.

It's almost insulting to me, to have to ask you all the time. Like some beggar. Like I'm desperate. Like I have no choice.

It's come to the point where I almost wish I didn't want you. And to tell you the truth, the sex isn't even that good anymore, both of us tense, wondering if the other is upset or even wants to be there in the first place.

I know there are a lot of things going on that don't help the situation. I know that. I am not stupid.

But especially when I am stressed, I yearn for affection, or someone to soothe me, and tell me everything is OK, and beyond that, make me feel that I am powerful and desirable and someone worth loving.

Maybe I should just learn not to depend on you for even that. Like I do not for everything else.

I recognise this feeling. This holding back that prevents me from asking you whether you can help me or assist me or accompany me. I knew it with Todd, and I know it so well with you.

You say you help. But I don't know how to explain how I feel. That till today I still don't feel we function as a unit. That you and I have separate lives.

Maybe that's what you want. Maybe I am wrong to want something different.

Maybe my lesson in life is to learn how to go it alone.

It's not so bad, really. I know I can do it. I just wish I had an other half who was supportive in the true sense, picking me up when I am tired, instead of just saying there, there, rest a while. Someone who will hold my hand when I think I am too tired to trudge up that hill. Like that guide on the mountain.

I want to just let go. Be cared for. For a little while.

And not have to worry about someone else, or look after them.

I give up.

The House

So i stand now on the threshold of a new life.

In mere weeks, I will leave this home, where memories have been built and nurtured, where joy and heartbreak has been contained.

It has been eight years without me realising it. In my mind somehow, the time here has been shorter, five or six, perhaps. I've lost track of how much time has gone by since I moved in.

I recall the evening after the last home was sold, and how I cried in bed, realising I would miss it.

Funnily enough, it hasn't happened yet in this house.

I can still recall so clearly moving into this home. How it all seemed to shiny and new. And how, after everyone of my moving in elves were safely tucked away in sleep, I would oil the cooker hood like it was some precious thing, and marvel at its shine.

I loved it then and I love it all still.

This evening it is raining. That wonderful, grey rain that excites the dogs with its thunderous coming, but then falls steady yet gentle. My favourite old standards play on the stereo. The delicate scent of lemon wafts in from the kitchen, where pears are gently poaching on the stove.

I wish I could capture this feeling. Bottle it and keep it for days in the future when I need to pause and think of something beautiful. Because this place is beautiful to me. A spot where I can sit and believe there is real beauty in my life.

I sit now in my favourite position, at the dining table, facing the lawn. How many evenings have I spent doing this and feeling absolute calm, and that all is right in the world despite everything? Contented, serene and at peace.

I am often flattered and amazed how other people coming to this home love it too. It is modest, but built with care. I think people must feel the soul of this house. That must be why they seem to like it so much as well. Strange, yet I have grown to believe it.

I can't explain it. Somehow, the fact that so many find themselves welcomed here fills me with pride.

I think over the next weeks and few months, I should try and capture this house. The way it feels, the memories, the beauty of it.

Many have asked whether I feel sad that we are parting. While a part of me loves it here, a part of me also feels ready to move on. And I know that once I leave, once this space is devoid of my beloved things, it will no longer feel the same.

Instead, my things will go with me to my new home. And I will build happiness there anew.

Happy?

Sometimes I wonder if I am really in love with you yet. Or whether this relationship is just a mere convenience for two people who are tired of living alone, or with someone who is uncommitted.

I wonder too if your passionate other half is waiting around the corner.

I wonder if you are in fact more in love with me than I am with you.

Someone asked me the other day if things were better with you than with her. I couldn't answer. Strange.

That I am happy is true. But you lack the warmth, immediacy and intimacy that I seek in someone I love.

Maybe I am just unhappy no matter who I am with.