I was extremely apprehensive about moving to where we now reside. It was on the "wrong" side of town (well not "wrong" in terms of crime or violence, it's actually in a pretty decent part of town where I wouldn't be surprised if many people leave their doors unlocked) for me, it was the "wrong" style, it was just "wrong". And I made it abundantly clear. I pouted on the way up to sign the lease, I didn't smile once while talking to the apartment manager or while touring the area and when we drove back home I fought with Greg over his trying to "strip me of everything I was by moving us to the most uncultured, boring part of town." I made the dramatic scene only a girl voted "Drama Queen" (not in terms of offstage personality, mind you) in her Drama class by her peers could. But we needed to move. We needed our own space (we were living with roomates at the time), we needed to save money and Greg was growing tired of the commute from downtown to the opposite end of Tucson.
It's been over a year that we've settled here. We aren't ready to look for a house again, especially after the first experience and the fact that we just don't want to settle for something we don't like just for the title of "homeowner". And I've still approached our apartment with the same apprehension I came into it with. An unwillingness to let myself care too much for it.
"It's just a place to eat and sleep and bathe in. Why should I really love it?"
But I've noticed I have started to take some bricks out of the wall I built around myself regarding our little abode. Started chipping of pieces of myself and letting them rest where they catch the light.
I'm still reluctant to drop roots in a place where fines are administered if artistic inclinations are carried too far. But I think I'm softening the edges a bit. Embracing as much of this place as I can instead of rejecting it to the bitter end.
It's not the downtown wooden-floored bungalow that I fantasize about every other day, but for now it's where we live. Where we color, laugh, fight, make up, make food, make music and plans and memories. It's where we find shelter from the heat and rest for the weary. It may not be forever, but for right now it's home.