(This post was original made around October of 2014. Somehow it was republished here. Hello, flashbacks.)
I feel trapped here some days. Here as in at school, but here as
in my life too.
I get to the point where I just need an escape. I need to do
anything except work, go to class, and see the same faces. I feel far from home
here on some days. Today is one of those days. I feel
depressed and lost. Like I don't have an outlet. I think I need to find new
ways to plug in here. I'm considering starting a bible study with any willing
girls in Lowe. Something laid back and outside of Salt so that I can spread
the gospel to these ladies that I love.
Some days I honestly just want to curl up in
a ball and disappear, and I think today I'm feeling that way because of
last night, and because of a dream I had very recently.
First, the dream. It was about the house on Holcomb, and while
I don't remember much of it now, I do still remember getting to be there
again. The only thing I really have left that reminds me of the flood is this
little alligator toy I have pictured below. Basically, when you open his jaws,
the little teeth pop up. You take turns pushing one down at a time until one of
them snaps the mouth shut. Its always been a source of entertainment for me and
friends even now.
I was playing with my alligator toy the
other day when I realized that it still had flood crud on it. The toy has
survived my childhood, many car shows and vacations, and even a flood and still
it keeps chugging. Upon thinking of the flood I was reminded of the house, and
again I was struck with the feeling of loss and emptiness.
Since the flood I have had a very specific
and clear picture in my head of the way the house used to look as if you were
standing in the foyer looking into the dining room/kitchen. Its
always been about noon, and on a late spring or summer day. The sun is shining
through the windows and the room is comfortably warm. The pale yellow
walls of the dining room and the pale wood of the furniture are glowing in the
light, adding to the feeling of comfort. Looking to the left, the blue kitchen
walls and white cabinetry is inviting, and the linoleum flooring is cool
beneath your feet. Straight out the back door in the kitchen in the patio and
garden, and the windows must be open because a breeze is coming in and it
smells of flowers.
My words don't do this memory justice, but
this place is the closest I have to a happy place. My mind bounces back to that
perfect, quiet, sunny day in my childhood home and I feel safe and comforted.
It absolutely sucks that that place is gone forever, I'm not going to act like
it doesn't still bother me some days. And I wish I had a place that comforting
to go to that was tangible.
This post has been random and rambling,
and I know I'm going to revisit the house when I have more time. I want to make
sure I get down the details before they slip away permanently. For now, we'll
just say that I feel pretty out of it today, but I'm going to put on that smile
and get through the day and hope for a better tomorrow.
