Maine, Day 0
I'm sure it's been said a thousand times before by a thousand different people, but still, the first thing that hit me driving in from the airport was the emptiness. The vast nothing. The second thing was the giant lobster painted on the side of some kind of large storage tank, closely followed by the sign - Welcome to Maine, The Way Life Should Be. This sign disturbs me as I am desperately trying to hold on to what I can of my life in Seattle while I'm here.
It's only five days, I can make it five days. Please.
I got a warm welcome from Einstein when I let him in, all purring and rubbing on me. I was surprised he recognized me right off. Since then, though, I've been snubbed with his "You left me for two years so why should I pay you any attention?"
It's sad with only one. I turned the corner, expecting to see another cat to distract my attention from the first while he snubs me. I noticed the empty living room, vacuumed clean of her white fur clumps. The signs of her have been put away. One food bowl is put up. Then suddenly I find a vet appointment card for April from June that he must've forgotten to take down way back then.
Going home from school was supposed to be going back to a better place. You can wash your clothes everyday for free. Someone else is paying for the food, even cooks for you. Now I wander around thinking how... mm.. pathetic it feels.
The food is nearly inedible - my dad has never heard of expiration dates. I start to make myself a grilled ham & cheese sandwich. The square cheese looks stiff so I look at the package - "This cheese is from June!!!" I throw away the square and take my heated-but-not-grilled ham and bread to a plate and take a bite from the stale bread with butter still on the outside from cooking. Butter, he doesn't use margarine.
As for stuff, anything of importance has been taken in the past so my room is left looking like a third-grader's who has left home. The other half is his books, his things, that he is expanding to fill even my room. Let him, I don't plan to be back.
Might as well even throw out this tiny bed and let me sleep in the guest room. (I wish he would.) One of these nights I might move in there anyway, give me more of a feeling of visitor and less of belonging here. Being here fills me with bad feelings from when I was supposed to belong here.