I live in a house people can get lost in. Michael's daughter rambled upstairs this morning, wondering where the guest bathroom was, knowing, at least, there was one upstairs. I could actually be in this house and not know that someone was on the third floor starting a fire or deciding to dig a well. If I were in the garage, aliens could land in the living room, and I'd not know about it until the second generation of small aliens needed to go to school. It's a big house, a damn big house, and I wonder why I have it now.
Back when my former spouse and I could barely scrape up the money to buy a house (circa 1990), we could scrape up enough to purchase a 600 square foot home. Yes, 2 bedrooms, one bathroom, eat in kitchen, laundry in the unfinished basement. My boys slept in a room that was probably smaller than my walk in closet now. They had a bunk bed, room for a dresser, bookcase, and floor space to build Lego buildings. That's it. My former spouse and I had only marginally more room, and I was able to set up a card table (one of my mother's cast offs) for the computer in the corner of our bedroom. That was my office. Sometimes, the mound of laundry was so high on the dresser that when I would awaken from a dream, I thought an evil giant was standing over me. The garage was so old, nothing could be parked there, and it was a favorite haunt of raccoons.
But we did our best. We remodeled the one bathroom. We rewired the living room a bit. We built a small patio in the back. But when we moved to our next house, I swear both boys grew two feet in about a month. They were scared to grow at the old house, and I don't blame them.
The houses we lived in after the 600 square foot house were bigger, but not much, my house in Orinda only 1500 square feet. The truth is, who really needs all this room? We are at 2700 square feet, though that downstairs room is really weird (trust me, it has a stone floor with Zen like pebbles. I don't get it and avoid it at all costs). It's wonderful and nice house, and though we have guests this weekend, they don't come that often. The aliens rarely write, never call. The guy digging wells is hit or miss. Mostly, it's just me wandering around her during the day, thinking, how is it that I have all this space now?
I suppose the universe has an answer. But here I will be in my giant house, getting lost, trying to find the bathroom, waiting for the aliens to visit.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org