Summer Vacation, Part 3

1. I like being in my place by myself. I would live alone if I could afford it.
2. I want a music room. Music is a necessary and vital part of my life.

I suppose I should explain the first one before my roommate gets upset at me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my roommate. But she’s also been on vacation recently, so I’ve had time to remember that I really like to be in my own space, to not worry about how my daily habits might affect anyone else. I get the same feeling when I’m alone at my parents’ house. I’ve always wanted to have my own place. I want to put things away where I want them. I like to leave my stuff around until I feel like picking it up. I want to decorate how I want and have refrigerator poetry. I just would really like to be able to try it.

The funny thing about this wish to be alone is that when I do see off roommate or parents, the first night alone is sometimes a little difficult. At the apartment, I lay awake, hearing all the odd sounds of the neighbors that I normally disregard. Then I keep double- and triple-checking that I had locked the door. Or when I’m at my parents and have their animals to contend with. The animals don’t rest well the first night, and that means that I don’t rest well. But once we all get into a rhythm, and the animals get used to me being there, it’s great.

But living with a roommate is so different than living with my parents, that I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. It’s been great fun. It’s funny, I might have lived in my parents’ house for four years, but I never felt fully comfortable in the kitchen. Like being able to root through the cupboards and cook what I wanted to, even if I was home alone. Now, I feel no hesitation in cooking my food and occasionally attempting to plan meals, even if my roommate was home. My roommate and I have gotten into a good rhythm, and things have gone very well this year. I’ve really enjoyed living with her. (Oh, and she has let me decorate some, and hang my pictures up. And she likes the refrigerator poetry I bought last week. So I guess I don't need to be alone to be able to do those two things.)

Recently my older sister asked to borrow one of my flutes. Her older daughter has decided to learn how to play that instrument. So I pulled out my first flute, the one that I learned on. I had to polish it, and check the keys and the pads, and make sure it was working well enough. And of course, I had to check the sound and the tone. Just to be thorough. So I pull out a little sonata that also doubles as a fingering exercise and run through it. I wasn’t really sitting in a good posture, and I haven’t played in years. But the sound came out, and the music flowed, and the patterns just came back to my fingers. Certainly not as well or as smooth as I could have played it 10 years ago, but it was still there. It was rather amazing realizing just how much I’ve missed playing my flute.

Every time I house sit for my parents, I take the opportunity to play on their piano. It’s only then that I notice a difference in my day. When living there, I could just sit at the piano at any time and play whatever. But then I moved out. I didn’t realize what the effects of not having a piano would be. I had no idea that playing was a main stress reliever. I have to be more careful about what music I listen to. It really makes a difference in my day when I listen to hymns or to the Tabernacle Choir.

My dad’s den used to be carpeted. They’ve recently replaced the carpet with faux wood tiles. The room wasn’t finished yet, all the furniture was still out in the hallway. Just by walking by and talking to the dog I could hear that ringing echo. So I walk in, and sing a little bit. It was beautiful. The sound, the echo, the warmth of the tone. It’s a shame that furniture has to go back inside. If it were my house, and my choice, the piano would be moving in there, and I would have my music room. But that’s a dream that has to wait for someday.