Just because I’m presumin’ That I could be kind of human If I only had a heart — Jack Haley [The Tinman] / “Wizard of Oz”
I so often joke about the black hole, empty echo of space, where my pulmonary organ should be. Today I proved the utter fallacy that jest. At least the physical manifestation of said organ, though the emotional/psychological variant thereof may still be in question.
I chose today to finally get around to filing my taxes. I have never filed taxes this late before, even when I owed the IRS. No idea why I chose this year to be so lackadaisical with it, but C’est la vie. I mentally chastised myself for it and got down to business. I file online and it took the little over an hour the it usually takes to get it done. All was fine until I needed to verify myself by providing the document numbers on my state ID or license. I have a lot of things memorized – that is not one of them. So off I go to my bedroom to retrieve my purse and wallet.
Bedroom? Check. Purse? Check. Wallet? Wallet? Bueller? [insert Ben Stein followed by tumbleweed and crickets here.]
Oh! DUH! I didn’t use my purse yesterday. I must have…
…dropped it on the console when I came in? Nā.
…forgot it in my jacket pocket when I hung it up? Nee.
…placed it on the dining table? Nein.
…left it on the bed before it was made and it’s under the cover? Non.
…put it inside the drawer when I took off my jewelry? Nyet.
[That’s a negative in Bengali, Dutch, German, French and Russian for those who weren’t curious.]
Let’s just say I cycled between languages, rooms and locations in said rooms. I bought the wallet in a bright color so that, though small, it stood out among things and be easy to see. So why couldn’t I see it? I even checked the refrigerator, okay? Each negative added to the increased panic. Was I wrong, did I lose it while I was out and it’s all GONE? I was daunted by all the things I’d have to replace in my wallet: credit cards, ID cards, insurance cards, etc. All while being simultaneously glad that while I have most memorized; I also have photo copies of everything, including contact info, so I could begin that arduous process.
Forty-five minutes, and do not ask about the state of my bedroom, later. I plopped down in the club chair in my living room, head lowered in hands, another maybe fifteen minutes from tears of frustration when I spy a splotch of bright colored leather wedged between the side of the sofa and the broken paper shredder waiting to be picked up for refuse. That was when I remembered I had laid my jacket there before I hung it up, not knowing my wallet had fallen out and slipped down but did not make it to the floor I had checked.
The resulting emotional WHEW! was when I noted the palpations that began to ease. I hadn’t noticed as my heartbeat ratcheted up in my increasing panic, but I sure felt the release valve engaged. And me, being me, only had one thing to say for myself as I finished my taxes and put the rooms Hurricane Raivenne ransacked to rights:
Eclectic in a way that will never grace a magazine cover
It is a home that is lived in, a structure that has seen some years
Pock marks, and tiny fissures vein parts of the wall
I used to see it as fault, now I see the imperfections as character
My home is warm / inviting…
Not one for bright colors or pastels except as the occasional accent,
I have ever changing adornments of noirs, scarlet, indigoes, eggplants etc.
It is deep rich colors and jewel tones that I like best
To offset the warmth of my mocha walls
My home is full of sound…
The hiss when its steaming
The pop when the floor is stepped on the wrong way
The hum of music and conversation that surround me
Mostly externally, but sometimes it’s just in my head
My home is spiritual / sensual…
The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace, Magen David, Crescent, and Ankh thrive here
Cuisines Mediterranean, American, Caribbean, Asian, Vegan are served here
Children, friends, lovers and a husband, still do or once have lived here
And once invited to cross my threshold, you know that you are loved here
My home is not where I hang my hat, feed my face, lay my head…
It is in my body that I have lived in these soon to be fifty years, slowly getting old
It is in my heart deep within that I am slowly trying to let out again, warm / inviting
It is in my soul where I find my comforts for me and my joy for others, full of sound
It is in my breath that compels to be alive and live for myself, spiritual / sensual
My home is… me
The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace sign, Magen David, Crescent and Ankh are in a tattoo that runs along my spine from base of my neck down, in that order.