There are young men in the transition home across the street. I made a point to say hi to the woman working over there a while back. It's certainly one of the nicer buildings on that block.
Which makes me think about home. I grew up in a house, but it never felt like home. All I knew, at the time, even so, more loved at my aunts' homes. Family because familiar, not safe, though. Much the same with the ex, come to realize.
Until I met D, and far from 'home', I found home for the first time. Acceptance, joy, ease, welcome, wherever he was, I was home. More as we moved in together a few years later, home with a place to be. I never expected anything else, never dared hope for that even, couldn't imagine it.
When we moved in to our own house, after so many apartments, I expected nothing more than a bigger space and no rent raises every lease. But something changed in me, as all the elements formed covalent bonds, a new substance emerged. Home. With Garden.
As you might guess, I dug today. Still mostly raw dirt, but with lemon balm taking over a corner, and other hopefuls returning, it looks more alive. Less plastic, loosened soil. This easy digging will not last much longer, when the clay hardens into concrete, forcing an end. Until then, I want to see beneath. What I found today, aside from rocks and bricks, and another marble, was a very rusty, crust horseshoe. Very unexpected, I ran in to show D, dirty shoes trailing grime, so excited.
Soaking it in vinegar overnight, hoping to get it more or less back in shape. Maybe even identify it. Then nail it up, for luck. Because, that's what needs to be done.
6 comments:
we have one too. horseshoe i mean. nailed up. danged if i can remember where it came from, though.
be sure to nail it with the ends up...to hold your luck, like a cup.
Home, wherever and with whomever you find it, is Good.
I grew up in a house that was a home. I moved into an apartment with she who would later become my wife and that apartment was a home. We together then moved into a house in the outer suburbs, and more recently, into the inner suburbs, and in both cases, our houses were homes.
There is a horseshoe nailed above the door to the shed in my backyard that was installed by previous owners.
We have a pony shoe above the door....well it is only a two room cottage!
ok, read this and other things, and while i am not generally a superstitious person (translation: someone who keeps her naturally superstitious inclinations in check), i have now told mr. moneky that he must flip the horseshoe the other way up.
of course, there are conflicting opinions out there, but the ends-up seems to be the prevailing one.
pc,
Oh, definitely U up. Don't have to believe in the superstition to take precautions. Some beliefs cover rare occurrences, a sort of folk memory that comes into play once in a while.
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