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takethisforexampleI miss the sliding of my desk drawer. I like the rolling noise it makes and the familiar weight, and the clattering of all my items when I slide it shut. I also miss my kitchen door window, even though we haven’t cleaned in ages. Right now I just know there’s a weird fogginess to the glass, even if you don’t look too closely. I’ve seen the moon a million times through that window because it’s the only one in the house with a good view of the sky. Recently I think my dog has picked up on that too. She always jumps on it to look outside and leaves a row of wet marks on the glass from her nose. She is always walking into things. The same marks exist on every smooth, shiny surface in the house basically. Even the metallic fridge has a line of Sadie nose imprints, and every time I think about it I laugh. Sometimes I wonder if she hurts herself doing that, but then I remember that as intimately as I know my house, I could never quite avoid bumping into the door frames.
One thing I miss bittersweetly is my bedroom door. I miss the noise it made when I opened it, and spinning around in that particular way to close it before I left. It never shut properly though, and in fact it has been through many iterations of fitting differently when the seasons change. I’ve toiled with it for hours trying to figure out if I can fix it to no avail, but that’s okay. I guess it has personality. It’s the only odd door inside the house besides my back door, which has been practically abused at this point. We don’t use our front door as our main entrance because our driveway stretches all the way to the back of our property. Ironically, the front of the house is kept perfectly landscaped even though we hardly ever have guests. When we do, it always freaks me out because my room looks out to our front entrance and I don’t like when people look in. I hardly ever open the curtains or window anymore. I only used to in May when our old cherry blossom would adopt her masses of flowers and rain pink petals outside my window for that one week every year. Out of all the things about my childhood home, that might be my favorite. That tree, despite being sick from the time I was born practically, always bloomed beautifully.
I miss searching hurriedly for spices in my spice rack. I miss the missing cap on my sibling’s light switch. I miss my Dad’s empty coffee cup that has been in the garage since 2015 for some reason, and the reticulated rows of weeds in the cracks in my patio, and laying out sugar cookies on my kitchen table in autumn.
Yeah, I miss it when I think about it. Sometimes I think I’m too sentimental for my own good, but recounting the complexities of my home makes me feel happy. I am so fond of understanding little things like that, minute and useless details. It keeps me in tune. In my home, there are so many little reveries like that.
One thing I miss bittersweetly is my bedroom door. I miss the noise it made when I opened it, and spinning around in that particular way to close it before I left. It never shut properly though, and in fact it has been through many iterations of fitting differently when the seasons change. I’ve toiled with it for hours trying to figure out if I can fix it to no avail, but that’s okay. I guess it has personality. It’s the only odd door inside the house besides my back door, which has been practically abused at this point. We don’t use our front door as our main entrance because our driveway stretches all the way to the back of our property. Ironically, the front of the house is kept perfectly landscaped even though we hardly ever have guests. When we do, it always freaks me out because my room looks out to our front entrance and I don’t like when people look in. I hardly ever open the curtains or window anymore. I only used to in May when our old cherry blossom would adopt her masses of flowers and rain pink petals outside my window for that one week every year. Out of all the things about my childhood home, that might be my favorite. That tree, despite being sick from the time I was born practically, always bloomed beautifully.
I miss searching hurriedly for spices in my spice rack. I miss the missing cap on my sibling’s light switch. I miss my Dad’s empty coffee cup that has been in the garage since 2015 for some reason, and the reticulated rows of weeds in the cracks in my patio, and laying out sugar cookies on my kitchen table in autumn.
Yeah, I miss it when I think about it. Sometimes I think I’m too sentimental for my own good, but recounting the complexities of my home makes me feel happy. I am so fond of understanding little things like that, minute and useless details. It keeps me in tune. In my home, there are so many little reveries like that.
