Our house is all sewn up. Like my mother once did, it had about twelve surgeries on its head alone, in the span of a quarter year. I have seen my first home—my mother’s body—and my last home, taken away piece by piece. This is why I do not seem myself. I am not myself! Steve and I, we are two kids playing a neighborhood game and the dependably parked safety car has driven away. We ran like hell through bushes and streets, dodging tags and all manner of trouble, just to make it to home base and yell, “Safe!” Only someone’s mom took it to the supermarket.
Someone else’s mom.
Ours are gone.
Now we are running aimlessly, flailing, yelling out to the others, “What’s the new safety? Where is home now? Don’t tag us!”
Mother: birth, life, protection, guidance.
House: grounding, security, symbol for your psyche.
Without these we hold onto each other, hoping another storm doesn’t blow us away (our house is scheduled to be up on pilings during the height of hurricane season). We cannot seek comfort in mom, and we cannot go home. We try to anchor ourselves and each other in midair.
Our house is healing. Finally, the rain cannot penetrate. One of the wettest seasons on record began right when the roof came off. This week, with the house all sewn up they were slated to shingle–on the hottest week of the year! Et tu, Mother Nature? More days go by. Weeks. Months. The SBA won’t even finish their loan review for another month and a half. The joke about $30,000 from FEMA for raising the house continues to be told all over Long Beach. NY State’s Sandy Help is still pending. All of it pends and depends upon other pendings. But…our house slowly heals.
No holes in its head=a less flooded mind for me, despite all the uncertainty. Symbolically, houses represent the psyche: the basement the subconscious, the upper floors the higher or spiritual self. No wonder I have had difficulty attaining any level of enlightenment of late. Now that the loft is sealed and my symbolic crown is not drowned, maybe I can get some sun in my mind.
At the very least, I can once again relax to the sound of a summer night’s rain. And that is worth celebrating.