Space. Or lack thereof.

I knew coming down here that the primary obstacle would be the question of space.

I have always enjoyed having my own space. I like my alone time, and I like living alone. I never wanted roommates, and haven't had any since I left Semple Street in South Oakland after I graduated from college.

So I am taking a fully furnished one-bedroom apartment and moving into an already furnished apartment with 3 other people. We first loaded all my things into the basement, and bringing up boxes I need one by one to unpack. I am constantly asking myself, "where can this fit?" and, in all honesty, "where do I fit?" I am trying to figure out where I fit within this family and culture that is much more insular than my own. With each item I cannot find space for, this rug and that picture frame, it feels like a piece of me that isn't fitting in.

This is my doing, not anyone else's. D and his family have opened their arms and their home to me, and I am grateful to them for it. But that is the thing, it is their home. When, if ever, will it feel like my home too? The problem is that I don't know how long I am staying. A few months? I don't really know. Things are so up in the air right now, it is hard to make concrete plans. Even if just a month or two, shouldn't I still unpack and hang pictures?

Well, for now it is just one step, one box, at a time.