Dream home

I’m having three berry-flavored cough drops for breakfast this morning. A couple weeks ago, I saw a nurse smoking a cigarette on my walk to work. I’ve been thinking about boundaries a lot lately and how unfamiliar they are to me. Someone whose job is to take care of others taking an inhalation of escape seems like one. Maybe boundaries are like that… indulgences and a reminder of our own edges.

I’m not sure if I grew up always saying yes or I slowly forgot how to say no, but I struggle with the pull of needing more for myself and wanting to give away what I have.

At pickup, after teaching a class, some students came up to us and looked at Nancy, the woman who runs the cooking program.

“I remember you.”

They looked at me next.

“And you!”

“Chef Nancy, I didn’t like anything we cooked last year.”

Her eyes widened as she told him that hurt her feelings, then laughed and wrapped her arms around him.

I watched a homeless man hop between train cars last night. Before he made his way to the next one he looked back at all of the people standing and sitting on the F, looking down or staring ahead of them.

“I know it must suck to hear a homeless guy talk about himself being homeless. Almost as bad as having a stroke and being homeless.”

He paused for a second.

“I’m being facetious.”

“It doesn’t suck that bad to be you.”

When I turned 21, I told my mom that I wanted a house by 25. I’m 24 now, and I don’t think I’ll be ready to leave my apartment next year. I just hung two picture frames on the wall. I got my first rug.

My friend was telling me that she felt like she wasted time and hasn’t taken enough risks, and she’s older than me, and I admire her stability, so I’m not sure who to look up to anymore.

I’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately and feel more like myself than ever. I think this is what having boundaries feels like. I really hated September because of how lost I felt. I thought I wouldn’t find my way out of that feeling for years, but it’s only November and I’m not sure who that girl was.

I’ve been getting better at making cakes. I’m around a lot of dairy products for a girl who doesn’t consume dairy, but it seems like a decent metaphor for boundaries, too. Avoiding licking the spatula, but making sure the muffins are golden brown by 8 a.m.

My hair is almost as long as it was in college, but I haven’t dyed it in six years, and sometimes I wear it naturally. My skin feels different, too. It’s smoother and even, other than the burns from the commercial oven up and down my forearms.

I’m less afraid of feeling angry or somebody being mad at me.

My mind changes constantly, but I think it always has. I’m trying to let go of this idea that one day I will wake up and everything in my life will feel like it’s where it should be. I think there will always be more.