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a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation


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full house
by Yee-Fan Sun
1 2 3

Itís the Monday morning after a long, lovely, crazy party of a weekend and when I wake up,  roll out of bed, pad barefoot across the hall to the bathroom, the house seems quiet: so quiet, the white noise thunders in my head. Outside, I can hear the birds twittering and the occasional rumble-swoosh of cars, jet fighter planes from the nearby air force base descending in a grumbly crescendo overhead, but here, indoors, thereís just the sounds of my feet on the floor, then my own morning routine: the swish-swish-swish of the toothbrush, the rustle of my running shorts being quickly pulled on. In the kitchen, my boy is getting ready to leave for school: I can hear the bang of drawers and the creak of refrigerator doors, the scrape of a mayo jar pushed across the tile countertop, the soft crumple as Asher opens a bag of sandwich bread. Soon Iíll hear the flat slaps of his sneaker-clad footsteps coming towards me: weíll kiss goodbye, and the house will be mine alone.

Most days I like this time, when itís just me, my thoughts, and the quiet of an empty house. I like the peace and the serenity; I like the selfish feeling of knowing that this whole space is mine and mine alone.

This morning, though, I find myself feeling a little wistful, and sad, and wishing for company. Iím missing those days not so long ago back in college, when I shared a suite with two, three, four official roommates (plus the seemingly ever-present non-official roommates, a.k.a. significant others), or further back in time as a kid, when I lived with my parents and two younger brothers Ė full homes, lively homes, homes wonderfully noisy with the sounds of laughter, and gossip, and good conversation, or (less frequently, itís true), that warm, happy glow of shared silence. 

Mostly Iím missing this weekend, when our friends Spencer and Lisa came to stay with us, and for a few days, we had housemates, and I remembered how much fun that could be.

Spencerís a friend of my sweetieís from grad school; he used to live here, until this past December, when a big group of us helped him pack up and load the contents of his one-room bachelor pad onto a truck, said our goodbyes as he made the move cross-country to be with Lisa. It was a little sad, to watch another one of our friends move away from Tucson. But this is the nature of having so many friends who are in grad school: you get this tight-knit circle of great people whom you adore, and just as youíre all starting to feel like a makeshift family of sorts, folks have this pesky habit of finishing up their dissertations, getting that doctorate, moving on, scattering apart. In the name of love, Spencer did things a little backwards, actually: moved away first, finished the dissertation second. Which is why he was back here in town last week, to give his defense talk, with Lisa here for support.

sidle on over this way please!

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