Pacific Nights

Living with a human again…
House always abandoned to its fate as I run to my consistent, constant, neverending, ever changing circle of activities…
My friends are somewhat neglected too, so I don’t really know what I spend my time doing…
It’s odd though, coming home and finding someone else’s laudry in the washing machine, having someone else telling me that I really ought to hang the towel on the rack after I’m finished with it, laughing at the shoes in the living room and the dishes in the sink…
Above all, asking “What time will you be in, Sarah..”
No one’s asked me that for a long long time…
I never thought that I’d miss it, but now that I have it again—The concern, the questioning— I think I kind of like it…
I like not being the one who goes grocery shopping.
I like not being the last one to go to bed.
Perhaps my independence kick is over, though I don’t think so.
It’s nice, having someone to be brought home to. It’s nice to hear the words “Will your dad mind?” I’ve always been daddy’s little girl, but no one’s ever asked me that before. By the time I was old enough to hear the words, my mom was playing dad in my house.
Mom says that independence doesn’t really exist, that it’s a figment of my overactive imagination like so many other things.
Right or wrong, I sort of like the sense of security– real or imagined– that I’ve surrendered my rugged individualism to…
Still an individualist… Daddy leaves me alone, more or less… It’s a feeling more than anything else… adds a little stability in a world that’s a little crazy sometimes…
We’ll see if I tire of it as I did of having my own four walls.
But for now, I’m a little girl again, and it’s not so bad after all.