I'm Selling My House in a Month

I’m selling my house in a month

Funny how a single phrase can hollow out your insides

Own your air

Command your gut

I’m selling my house in a month

My ex-wife and I fucked for the last time on the kitchen floor

Right next to our stainless steel trash can

We walked around town for 3 hours before we finally made the decision to separate

We grinned, laughed, sat in silence, and sobbed in each other’s arms

And then we fucked on the kitchen floor

I’m selling my house in a month

The first weekend the main water line started leaking

In 2 days I hand-dug a 30 foot trench 3 feet down to put in a new pipe

My grizzled neighbor walked the entire length of the trench without saying a word, looked me dead in the eyes and said:

“You’re one digging little fuck”

Then he walked away

I’m selling my house in a month

I sleep on my couch most nights

The bedroom feels taken

It’s not mine

There isn’t room

It’s a smaller me that sleeps there

I’m selling my house in a month

I sat on my favorite yellow couch in the living room and read Bell Hooks’ “The Will to Change”

She quoted Thomas Moore.

“What a mystery it is to be a boy, so close to death and birth, so uneducated and therefore so fresh and uncynical. We should end our disparagement of the boy, of our own immaturities, of our tardiness in growing up, of our sheer delight in beauty, of our love of the sun, of our vertical inclinations, and of our wanderings and great falls . . . We could speak words of encouragement to this boy where we find him - in our friends and students, in our institutions, and in our own hearts. If we do not speak to him in this way, he will be lost, and we will have lost with him, all tenderness and grace.”

Something inside me shifted. Unravelled. Began knitting back together.

I blubbered - ugly cried - tears streaking my vision and snot running into my mustache and down my cheeks

I’m selling my house in a month

I wanted to turn the right upstairs bedroom into an art room

I bought an inclining art desk on-sale from Michaels with someone I loved desparately

I found adjustable track lighting for $50 on Facebook Marketplace

We did a tarot reading when the moon was full, to see what energy the room held

We leaned forward and put our foreheads together

Brushing each others’ lips, supporting each others’ weight

We talked

Now we don’t

I’m selling my house in a month

I channel my inner Renèe Flemming in the kitchen

Washing dishes and narrating my day in full operatic soprano

Silly. Free. Essential.

Me.

Less than 5 people have witnessed this

If you have, it means I trust you

If you do, it means I love you

I’m selling my house in a month

I fractured in the dining room

4 months post-divorce on a Tuesday at 3:17 PM

Pacing with fast and shallow breaths

Every footfall a desparate attempt to contain the vortex of chaos in my gut

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What would happen if it rose any higher in my body . . . if it got loose?

I couldn’t get enough air

I’m selling my house in a month

On the porch, I began picking up the pieces of myself

The boy who believed that he and his body were evil, rotten to the core

The teenager who felt everything and was told that emotions aren’t to be trusted

The man who knew in his bosom that he was too much and not enough

I met them, talked to them, grieved with them, raged with them, and learned to love them for how hard they were working to protect me, even when they didn’t have to tools to do it in a healthy way

I thanked them

I went to therapy

We found a way through

I’m buying a house in a month

It’s smaller and cozier

I’ll be out of debt

I’ll do new things in new rooms

I’ll be lonely

I’ll be alive

I’ll cook food and have backyard fires with friends and lovers

I’ll sob

I’ll Renèe Flemming in the kitchen

And maybe someone will see me

Maybe someone will hear me