Own Home

     We have to find our own home. We lost ours and our friends invited us to share theirs, to make their home ours. They were excited at first to share all they had with us. They showed us around, gave us full access to all their things, to every room, to all their comforts, but that warmth soon vanished as the realization filled their hearts that our presence in their home was permanent.

     The excitement that they felt at first was quickly replaced by doubt and regret. Even as we began to move a few of our things in the tension built and we wondered if we should stay. We asked if it was still okay if we moved into their home. They assured us that is was fine, that they loved us and wanted us to share in their blessings. They told us that we were more than welcome, to make ourselves at home. We attempted to do just that, but it was hard to make ourselves feel at home when we were not made to feel as if we were at home.

     Mi casa es su casa; what is ours is yours. That is what they said until we reached for something. Once we touched something it was claimed, pulled back as if we had sullied it. Everything was theirs, even the stuff that was never used, never claimed until one of us touched it. We would lift up our hands and say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was not something we should touch. We won’t do it again.”

     As time went by even what wasn’t ever used seemed to be untouchable. We began to wonder if anything was okay to utilize. New things came in, and even a glance caused them to run in and take possession of them. The few things we brought with us to share with them, we held loosely, wondering if they would claim them as part of the price for being in their home.

     It has been awhile now, and we live as strangers. They have never been unkind or rude, never raised their voice or told us to leave, be we know we have overstayed our welcome. Their home will never be ours, so it is time to go and make our own way, find our own home.