Second Night Back

Tonight is my second night back in Denver. So far it’s good. It’s really good to see my friends again spend time with them, going on walks around the park, “running errands” at Crate & Barrel, barbequing kebabs under the stairwell and just talking. I do miss my family, but it’s good for me to be around people my own age. My entire apartment is smaller than my parents’ kitchen, but it’s home and I like it. Of course my kitchen table triples as my dining room table and my office, but the wall behind it is lavender – every room is different colors: lavender, yellow, light lime green and deep red (the only one I didn’t pick and can’t paint over). It’s cheerful and homey and more of a haven than a cocoon. After months in my love cocoon, sleeping in my old bed, having dinner every night with my parents, it’s time for me to burst forth as a butterfly, leave the nest, and all of those other growing up clichés.

I haven’t been getting overwhelmed in the same way I used to, where I would shut down and need to extricate myself from the situation as quickly as possible. I do have to remind myself to take naps, though harder than that is actually tearing myself away from whatever I’m doing and make myself lie down so I’ll be able to make it through the rest of the day without glazing over and crashing. With all of the unpacking between reunions, I’ve been much more active than even in the Bahamas. I like it. As long as I do take breaks. It’s good for me to feel like part of society again; to feel like a twenty-something again. Tomorrow, my friends are throwing a little welcome home barbeque for me, complete with all non-alcoholic drinks (save one glass of champagne each to toast my successful surgeries). It’s also Palm Sunday, so I’m gonna go to church, which I’m excited about, but I’ll have to take a nap between the two activities since I’m not allowed to partake in the host’s espresso machine and I’d hate to fall asleep during my own party.

When I opened the door to my apartment for the first time on Thursday, there were flowers in all different shapes and shades of pink as well as a sign saying, “Welcome Home Erica”, signed by my friends in my building. The living room and my bedroom were full of the boxes that Eve brought over from the crawl space in which I’d put them back in November. I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends.

It’s funny to come back home in the mid-afternoon or later at night, tired and ready to start in on this task or that, and have no background noise. No footfalls from different sizes of feet carrying varying weights that each move with their own timbre. No TV playing in the next room. No opening and closing of the fridge; no chopping or scraping; no one building a fire; no one asking where their keys are and saying they’ll be back after fill-in-the-blank. It’s quiet. Until I put on some music, the only sounds are people talking in the open-air stairwells of our building and the one next door. It’s strange living in an apartment that’s empty but for me and my thoughts. It makes me miss my parents, my aunts, and even the two girls who work for my dad’s consulting business. Most of me is glad to be on my own again, but likely it will be like the latter.

Now, finally, I’m completely exhausted and need to go sleep before I fall asleep on my computer permanently.

Good night.