Looking around, I see where the furniture was, where the laughter was made, the love was born, enjoyed, allowed to grow.
I see where the chair used to be. The one I sat in looking at Dan snoring on the couch and then realizing if he were to ask me to marry him… I would accept, teasing him in the kitchen that he would have to be the one to propose…
Over there is where Autumn taught herself to play the piano, where her boisterous laugh echoed throughout the land as her Dad made her giggle each night when she would want to be tucked in, which is every night even as a young teen. I couldn’t be a more proud fairy godmother to such a beautiful and talented young Princess.
Is that a dog in the window? Yes, that is where Eli the Chillhuahua would climb up the chair and over to the short bookcase to perch, just waiting for us to come home. I remember the first time I got down on that dark wood floor with him… the way he got so excited. I remember when we would go on patrol to bark and chase pterodactyls (ducks), werewolves (other dogs), zombies (other humans), and the occasional vampire (opossums, raccoons).
Initially, I thought I would never miss the condo. Something about it never felt permanent to me (renting never has since I had my condo before and shortly after the 2008 crash). And yet, it is where my partner and his daughter turned into my family. It is where merely living life with all its ups and downs won the battle over limiting my love and options because of fears from the past.
Love moved us into that condo to settle into a place and create something new, something beautiful, transcendent. Even in difficult times, there wasn’t any room for fear to take root there. Now that we have moved to the Dandy Ranch 2.0, we will continue to Thrive.
I am going to miss you Dandy Ranch 1.0. May whoever buys you next not give any room for fear either.