What 2020 has taught me about Home

 What I learned about “home” in 2020

 

2020 was definitely the year to spend a lot of thought on your home.

Because of the covid-19 pandemic, 

my part of Florida was on lockdown 

for the second half of March and all of April, 

with some things not reopening until the summertime.

Many people had no other choice but to stay at home,

Because their jobs were closed and nothing public was open.

Some stayed home because they genuinely felt more susceptible to Covid.

Some stayed home almost the entire year,

While others still went about 

a more simplified version of their lives.

I am an essential worker with a job at a bank,

So I had to continue traveling to that bank Monday through Friday.

But that’s all there was aside from Target and the grocery store.

Church was closed.

Malls were closed.

The beach and the public parks were closed.

Festivals were cancelled.

Restaurants closed or reverted to pick-up only.

It caused many people to spend ample time within their four walls

And some of them used that time to deep clean, reorganize,

Remodel, repaint or just redecorate their abodes.

Others sat on the couch day after day bingeing on Netflix

And putting on weight.

Either way, they all got very, very closely acquainted with whatever place

They were calling “home”,

Be it an apartment, a mansion, a trailer or their mom’s house.

 

As for me, “home” is STILL, after nine years, 

An aging 950-square-foot rented condo.

I’ve made it a prayer and even a plea with God at times

Since about 2016

“I’d like a bigger, better home”,

namely a house.

But God has not answered this particular prayer yet.

In fact, as of fall of this year,

It is the ONLY prayer on my list that has not been answered.

Finances and credit just haven’t fallen into line.

 

I moved into this condo on December 1, 2011.

Before that, I was renting a small house.

That house was up for sale and I could not get roommates to stick.

I kept trying to make it work,

But upon the event that was the “big breakup” 

With my boyfriend, now husband , in November 2011,

I decided I needed a fresh start.

I wasn’t going to be able to stop the house from getting sold

Out from underneath me

And when we split, it left me with a house full of memories

to haunt me.

The messy back yard where he’d planted a bunch of squash seeds and sunflowers.

The kitchen where we’d cooked dinners together.

The living room, where he’d loaned me a TV and game console

And we’d played on it together...

But he had taken it back.

It took away the fight in me.

And I surrendered. 

I got on the internet and checked the website for a rental company

That I had used in college

And found one little third-floor, two-bedroom, one-bathroom condo

With rent low enough that I could make it on my own.

When I first moved in, I had panic attacks every night

and every morning.

It was scary living alone with no roommates

and no boyfriend to come see me daily.

Gradually, I got over it.

After a few months, I realized that I was still struggling financially,

And I brought in a roommate.

Towards the end of 2012,

My now-husband and I began to reconcile.

Before long, we decided that 

“This was it, time to get going”

and we set a date to get married.

In 2014, my roommate moved out on basically the eve of our wedding,

And he started moving his things in.

Since he lived with his parents

 for a couple of years leading up to that date,

And neither of us really had finances and careers figured out,

It was easier just to keep renting that same condo.

 

For the first couple of years that we were married,

I didn’t overthink the condo at all.

My roommate had departed and taken loads of clutter

With her.

We deep cleaned.

And now it felt plenty large enough for the two of us.

When we married, I said it would always be just us.

I didn’t feel the need to rush and get a bigger house 

So I could fill it with babies because I didn’t plan to have babies.

I knew that one day I wanted to build or buy a large house

A dream home to settle down in

But considering that he didn’t have an actual job and was going to school

And I was only a teller at a bank,

It seemed far off.

The condo was fine “forever” or at least for another decade.

Then his things started to accumulate.

He took over the second room as an office

And for awhile there was room between a few bookshelves 

For a comfy chair and small side table for me to lounge with

while he studied on his computer.

But then he began collecting stuff.

Exercise equipment that he found on a good deal.

small furniture that was by the trash compactor.

Piles of books to study subjects he wanted to master eventually.

The office filled up and looked more like a storage room.

His things began “migrating” into the living room.

By 2016 there was a Bowflex, massive and ugly, next to the TV.

The kitchen filled up with little appliances that he wanted

For his dream home 

But had found sooner.

They took up all the counter and top-of-cabinet space.

His hobbies would take up all of the closet space.

I began to feel claustrophobic.

On top of that,

The apartment was aging.

The carpet was dingy, and only got worse

When my husband brought home a dog in 2015,

That he would keep for only a short while.

The walls were scuffed, faded and needed repainting.

The bathroom had mildew.

Sliding closet doors were coming off hinges.

Appliances were wearing out.

I longed to be back in the other condo I had rented a room in 

for my junior year of college.

The one owned by a spoiled girl in a brand-new development

With its marble counters, stainless steel appliances

and Berber carpet that didn’t show dirt.

 

In 2017, I would foolishly think that 

The resolve for a fight that we couldn’t get past

Was for me to spend a few months living separately of him.

During that time, he decided to let go of many of his possessions

Start over

And put different furniture in the condo.

When I returned and we started working out our differences,

It felt like a reset of my home at least.

Then, in 2018, everything changed forever.

With the advent of a positive pregnancy test,

My husband was gradually forced to clean out 

The entire office (Which was still stuffed to the brim)

Put some things in storage, 

Put his book shelves and computer desk in the living room

And let the baby have that second room.

 

Fast forward to 2020, 

The condo is now home to two adults, one toddler,

And all of the man’s computers, office furniture,

hobbies, books and appliance collection.

It is also housing all of the woman’s furniture,

Her closets of clothes, beauty products,

Cleaning products, cleaning tools,

a few of her hobbies and about 160 houseplants

(my fault)

The entire second bedroom is housing the toddler’s things

And while there’s a bed in there for him

There is still a crib because there will be another baby

In 2021.

Claustrophobic was not the right term 

for how things were in 2016.

 

Of course, spending countless weekends 

At home or right outside it

And not going anywhere other than Target or Publix

Probably did not help with that feeling, right?

That’s where you would actually be wrong.

I struggle with OCD, or something like it.

I can’t stand dirty, cluttered, untidy.

I will come home from work and get right on the chores

Because I can’t relax until I feel like my surroundings are clean.

More time at home allowed me more time to 

Reorganize and do some de-cluttering.

But only so much.

More time at home meant embracing that this is the home I have.

This is what I was given.

Perhaps I can’t understand why I haven’t been given

A chance to upgrade,

But understanding why really isn’t key here.

 

I am fully aware that there are countries 

where people cram a family of 15 into a hut.

I am aware that right here in America there are some poorer areas

Where multiple families have to share a condo like mine,

Or a single family lives in an empty trailer because they can’t afford

furniture, clothes or food.

Right here in my town, there are people who sleep in vans

In public parking lots 

And still others who sleep in the woods.

They can be seen during the day pushing a shopping cart

Loaded with bags of trash

But the trash was items that they salvaged to live on.

And then here I am,

I have 950 square feet for only three of us

(really more like 2 ½)

Baby has his own room, he will share with his brother for awhile

But he’s not forced to sleep in our room 

And our room is a room with a door,

Not a motel double bed that’s in the same general area as 

The kitchen.

We only have one bathroom,

But it’s bigger than a motel bathroom.

We have a balcony that is full of plants like a jungle,

Plants all over our living areas and bedroom

That make it feel like a tree-house 

Since we are up on the third floor,

And that adds a touch of whimsy.

My kitchen is small and linoleum and basic,

But it has what I need to cook proper meals

and even extra for other people.

We have a washer and dryer.

We have wifi.

We have multiple computers and tv screens.

All of us have dozens of outfits to wear

And pairs of shoes with no holes.

The fridge is full of food, so is the pantry.

I have good cleaning tools to help me keep up with 

The messes a man and a toddler make.

Desire for bigger space aside,

We really do want for nothing.

More important than possessions, though

We have each other.

We are not still living separately.

We are not living alone.

Or with strangers we can’t trust.

Our little boy has both of us there to raise him.

 

I think if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that home isn’t defined by 

How large or how new your house is

Or that it’s a house and not a condo...

It’s defined by where your family and that which you love are.

 

And thinking about that 

makes me take a look at my husband for a minute.

He is in a place where he feels (probably mostly) safe

And in control.

His name is on the lease, 

It is his home for the time being.

And he is surrounded by everything he feels he needs and wants.

I told him once that I wanted us to downsize and de-clutter,

So I would need him to point out items in the condo

That did NOT bring him joy.

And he couldn’t find anything. 

Even tired old worn-out things 

he’d brought up from the trash compactor

gave him some inspiration.

I’m still trying to make peace with that, to be honest.

That my husband comes with probably about 

Three truck loads of random things he doesn’t need

But that he really wants to keep.

But here he is, surrounded by that which brings him joy.

And that includes myself and the toddler and baby-to-be.

He has control because this is the first time

He wasn’t living with his family

In a rented small house or hotel room

That would be getting changed up again shortly

And he had no say,

Except for the few times he got out on his own

In early adulthood

But those times he didn’t have a plan for affording it long term

And wound up back in square one.

So he has literally referred to this silly little linoleum-clad condo

As “a fortress” or “a palace”.

Because he used to sleep on the floor 

while his two younger siblings

Shared a bed and that bed was next to his parents’ bed

because it was a hotel room.

an extended stay hotel room.

Filled to the brim with all of their possessions.

Our son has his own room,

when my husband’s parents had to put their children

In whatever small space they could fit them in.

I think his younger sister slept in a dresser drawer as a baby.

 

I still want a real house with a back yard to call “home”

But I think this year taught me that home had more to do 

With what I already have and who I share it with.