our key

April 5^th, 2008

7:41 am

Sipping coffee in the cold basement, but warmed by familiar light. A soft glow. Always beside me.

This little apartment is quiet this morning. S.B is asleep. Little Man is tucked away in his big-boy bed. The pets, at first excited with my early morning stretching and fuss at the coffee maker, have now made their way back to bed. They are snuggled up to S.B. no doubt.

And here we are again. Over and over. Awkward and not obeying the rules. At the keys.

Because this is where we belong.

It appears we’ll be moving soon. From one city to another. Apartment to house. Shared driveway and throwing-money-out-the-window, to our own two-car garage and building equity. It’s a fine experience. Meaningful in many aspects, but especially important below the surface.

Suppers together. Cooked in our small, but functional kitchen. One that has room for more than one person at a time. With a garbage disposal. Nice cupboards. A window overlooking the big, green backyard. The place where me and S.B. can sit at night. Drink wine. Watch the sky. The place where we can play with Little Man. Football. Baseball. Catch. Build a play area for him. One that has a swing and a slide. A playhouse and sandbox. Enough space for the pets to roam, and for us to plant a garden. One ripe with vegetables to eat and flowers to see, so that even though we are in the city, we remain connected to the one place we know we’re from. The salt of the earth.

S.B. will have a room to create and paint. Little Man will have a place to play and read. Sleep and think. A place that looks, sounds, and feels like HOME. Where his roots can break the surface, take hold, and he can continue to grow. Thrive. Reach whatever tree, star or cloud he believes can be reached if only he keeps trying. And trying some more.

And finally, my writing will come out of the basement. Be brought into the light. Instead of dull concrete and a small, thick-paned 2’ x 3’ window, there’ll be color and a bright clear view. Even on the dreariest days.

The writing will not always be cheerful. Not be the type of stories you’d discuss with your grandmother, or in church. But they’ll be true. And given to you. To do with as you please. As you sit. Warmed by familiar light. Guided by the soft glow. That brings us here. Together. Over and over. As we work so hard to find and share our key to the locks on the chains we see everywhere.

~ K.J.