i have a home now. even if it’s just a for-now home, it’s a home. i’ve been there for some months and the apartment itself is just whatever but the space is actually sort of perfect. since i signed the lease i’ve had the wonderful opportunity to re-fall in love with being able to enter a room that’s mine and put my things where they go (because they do go somewhere now) and then…just be. be quiet, be loud, be a dork, be asleep. i can do whatever i want. i live there. it’s mine. it’s me.

when i get done working i can hardly even wait to turn right on boylston. my body has started adjusting to my daily routine and i’m back to passing on things like hanging out with friends and for the simple reason that i’d rather be warm and comfortable and alone. i’d rather be at home. so when i finish responding to emails and pouring over SOWs, i close my computer, wrap up my cords, pick up my bag and then get in my car to drive straight to my corner of capitol hill. it used to take me 40 minutes to find a place to park but now it only takes me about 5. i found a secret. and once i park and i walk up my steps and i enter the pin for the front door and i walk 10 feet to my lock…i’m already decompressed. this is how i used to feel and something that i was missing for like, 5 years now.

after my stuff is where it goes, i straighten my place up, i turn on a lamp or two, i light a candle or ten, i turn some music on low and i go to the kitchen to make tea and make some dinner. last night was an iceberg salad with homemade caesar and pine nuts and ahi tuna. seared, but barely. iceberg caesar salads with pine nuts and seared ahi tuna is delicious with rpmano shaved liberally over the top. tonight i’m doing the same thing with the cheese but i’m doing it over brussel sprouts and trying my hand at homemade pesto (I have pine nuts, remember!?) and using it to sauce some flatbread pizzas. i’m thinking BBQ portobellos sound good but i’m not sure if that’s a thing. i'm also not sure i should pair that with pesto.

every night i lock my door when my evening is over and i’m ready to settle in to some x-files or the latest paul thomas anderson film. every time i do, a feeling of “yeah...bring the day to an end, nate” happens and i remember that i’m at my home and that i’m initiating a curtain call in a place that feels right for right now. the antlers and the cloudy glass medicine bottles and the stacks of books and the rilke poster that i designed and printed and framed…they don’t do it. the lock does. locking the door does. it’s the act of. it’s the ritual therein. it’s the subtle click that i hear when the deadbolt moves two inches to the left after which i sigh and (sometimes) smile and stumble over to my bed. then i blow out the candles and everything goes quiet.

it took too long. it took a toll. but my door is paying that debt back for me by reminding me for three seconds every night that i can reset. at home.