Today, well today at around 6pm, it will mark one year since I've lived where I am currently living. To say it's a happy anniversary would be a lie, but it wouldn't be a stretch to say it's a happier anniversary.
Living in another person's home, especially a couple, is an odd situation and it's taken me a long time to get comfortable. OK, that is a lie. It's still uncomfortable. Not feeling as if the space is mine, is at times, depressing, but at others, just plain lonely. One of the hardest parts of being part of another's life is failed expectations. If there has been any lesson taken, it's that family dynamics are not universal. The things one person covets, another takes for granted. Some families crave material items, while others simply enjoy time. Without dissecting my entire existence, and that of my landlords, let's just say, if I had tried to chose two people less like me, with less in common and views on day-to-day life more opposing than mine, I would have failed. That being said, I've learned a lot about myself, and of others. To say I understand it, would be a lie.
This year has been a trying one. In many ways, more trying than others, but in some ways more relaxed. I'm reading more. Having a few cocktails when I want, cooking and laughing more, and despite it being only slight, thinking less. This is a good thing.
I'll cut this short, because of the last point in the last paragraph, but just want those who have assisted during this journey, you are not and will not be forgotten. You held my hand, hugged me and kissed my forehead, even if through a screen. You were the rocks I needed, when I needed it most. You made me laugh, when I wanted to cry and you gave me that flicker, when it was pretty dark in here. But most of all, you were present. If I am able to be there this year, and years to come, even a fraction as much as you've been there for me, I will.