Our Home in the Universe, Part Two

It was getting rid of all the things I didn’t need. It was the job search. The long walks in the snow under dark sky, trudging the grimy streets with a folder of resumes. The goodbye tears to friends and family. Then it was actual move, the endless drive, the speeding ticket, exhausted at dawn. It was a list of things to do that included mail forwarding, transfer of title and registration, new driver’s license, voter registration, car insurance, AAA, transfer of bank accounts, filing federal and state taxes, etc. For a long time it was the couch, for too long, the couch. Where the fuck is my couch? The first job, no customers, abusive chef. The second job, up at 6am for the blood money, the smell of my own feet. The car accident, the bike repairs. It was worrying my girlfriend was with her ex. The break up. Then finding out she had been with and was with her ex. The phone calls (thank you).

It was also getting rid of all the things I didn’t need. It was a love that allowed me to make a move with confidence. The long walks in the snow with determination. The arrival of the couch. The third job, the one with pride, knowledge and enthusiasm. The spacious new apartment across from a park. The cat who is always in my corner. The friends who visited. The phone calls (thank you). It was acknowledging feelings and emotions, honoring them, letting them go. The marijuana (thank you).

The day I left Massachusetts for the Midwest, I forgot to take the poster hanging above my bed. It says, “Our Home In The Universe.” There is a picture of earth and the planets in the solar system. I got it in Chicago ten years ago. Originally it was up on the wall by the big dish washing machine at the Union League Club. The guys let me take it when my mom died and I moved back East. It’s one of those things that is a treasure to me. I found a new home and a second family in restaurants, and it started there. I hated myself for leaving the poster behind in my Harvard Square basement apartment.

Well, my wicked nice landlord Nora offered to mail it to me. I told her to take her time, that when it did arrive I would feel home at last. Jigsaw falling into place. Tonight, hours before I return to Massachusetts for the first time in four months, there it was, leaned up against the door to my place in the universe. ¡Vamos!