Shivering, I grab the handwritten receipt with a mitted claw. The chill of the morning wind blasts against the van’s rusted passenger side door, flung open and to my right. I reach over the Mickey Mouse cut-outs sprawled across the seat, clasping an outstretched hand to seal the deal. Running back to my car, I let out a giggle, imagining Mickey’s beady eyes staring after me. There must be some logical explanation for the Mickey clones held hostage in my new landlord’s vehicle, I thought. I grip my damage deposit receipt between my hand and the steering wheel, hardly believing that the tiny apartment ad I saw less than 36 hours ago has now materialized into my new home.
That was this past Friday, during an early morning “drive-thru” transaction on a quiet street, mere blocks away from two of my previous apartments. On two separate occasions, exactly two years apart, I found myself draped in my green hospital gown cape, transported back in time and into the loving care of my parents. And now, here we are again, back to the part where there’s a new hobbit hole for the second phase of healing. You know, the part that actually involves cooking and cleaning for yourself? The deja vu feeling is hard to ignore, the vicious cycles of the past hang low around my head. How long will you last this time, my dear?
The very same day I looked at the apartment, I went with my sister to deliver cookies to her co-workers. The cookie delivery was going to the scene of my “hospital-cape-wearing-crime.” I hadn’t been there since. I walked past the Emergency Entrance, avoiding eye contact with it’s wide automatic doors as the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies gently wafted up my nose. Wisely, my sister chose to enter through another door nearby. I silently thanked her. There are some doorways you don’t need to go back into.
It was hard to write this today. It’s been hard to write about my “lupusface” at all, as you can tell from a longer than usual gap between this post and the last. I feel like my recent posts are veering off from the original “Lupus Awareness” intent of the blog and even as a personal exercise, I’m not sure if I am discovering anything new. Much like my life cycles, I feel like I just repeat the same thing over and over again.
There seems to be a lot of moving going on, a lot of shifting, like those small square puzzles with tiles that we used to slide around with chubby, childish fingers. I move into my new, less duty-intensive position at work in 2 months. It’s bitter-sweet, laced with relief and sadness. Who knew working less would be so hard? In the more immediate future, my move into my new hobbit hole happens in a week. I figure the best thing I can do is move in one box at a time.