This post is for the July 2019 Carnival of Aces, on the topic of “Home.”
CW: contains references to domestic abuse, alcoholism, and sexual assault.
I have never lived in a place where I felt truly safe, comfortable, welcome, and like I really belong, all at the same time.
Layers upon layers of casual tragedy weigh down the air in the house I live in now, the legacy of traumas not my own lingering, and the floorboards creak as I step delicately through them. Cracked and patched again countless times, the walls of this house still stand, sinking slowly into the ground, shielding me from the worst of the sun’s rage.
I’ve always understood this as a temporary arrangement, a less-than-ideal choice among several other unhappy options. Something is always broken, and usually several somethings, but even so, I’m lucky to have this. Continue reading