Rain In The Window

The upstairs apartment connected to my childhood home (my dad's house) is vacant right now. Since he had someone else move in with him, there hasn't been much room for us to come back to visit. But! With the upstairs open, I have my own space for awhile. 

Now. The apartment, it's one bedroom, one bath, but it's still really open. Especially with nothing in it, and no one else around. This place is an empty canvas for your energy. There is nothing other than the wallpaper to influence how you're feeling, or whether or not you're comfortable. Its completely yours to inhabit and pollute it with your own light and energy; to spend a day with nothing other than yourself.

There's a storm right now. The thunder is reverberating through this house. Granted, the house is over 100 years old, and most of it is the original work. However, all I'd truly have to do is shut the window and the world is put at bay. This house is like a guardian. Someone that has always got your back, and knows what you need in almost all situations.

Whenever I come home I typically feel nostalgic, and so when I leave it's like a breath of fresh air. But since I have been on the other side of the fence; since I have seen, heard, felt, and loved this entire other universe, coming home has felt different. It's no longer stepping into the past for me, but stepping back into who I am and where I'm from. Fuck! I grew up here! I used to play on that porch, and walk down these streets. I have developed into my own person with a completely new perspective on reality, and when I'm back home I can see all of it differently. This place is fucking beautiful. It's a small town, quaint, with a little hustle and bustle, but everyone is so chill. I'm not ready to move back here, but when I am, there will absolutely be no place like home.