Where My Love Lies Waiting Silently For Me
As I've stated in previous journal entries, I'm moving tomorrow without a real place to stay. Anna was kind enough to offer a night, Laurel another, and my friend Larisa stated that she might be able to find an option for me somewhere. It's all appreciated more than I can express to any of these women.
It's also overwhelming in another way. As wonderful and kind as my friends are, I've been in this position often enough to know the difference between being a welcome guest and an imposition, and what with everyone being crushed under the weight of Christmas responsibilities and/or major family issues, I'm afraid that I'm well into being the latter right now. I hate that. I hate the idea of being a burden to any of these people, all of whom have been nothing but wonderful, loving, and supportive of me at all times. I hate this instability, this uncertainty, this sense of being just one step away from the emergency shelter at the National Guard Armory. Today Chana and I were thinking of packing up and taking off to San Diego, but frankly, I'm not sure who we could stay with there after eight years away from my hometown.
I'm not in despair. Not yet. But I can feel the ball circling the hole over and over, ready to drop in, and it's taking all of my willpower to keep it out.
I want to be safe.
I want to be warm.
I want to be home.