I’ll Bury Your Pets With You

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he’d asked.

We sat in his car in front of the house.  And I was unsure that I wanted to invite him in.

“C’mon, let me in, what? Are you afraid of showing me the pet cemetery in the back yard?” he’d joked, referring to a scene in Garden State.

“Listen, my living situation, it’s…different”, I’d responded.

I did let him in, feeling as vulnerable as I’d been in a long time.  I was hesitant to show him my home life.  I liked him and I didn’t want to scare him away. I lived in a National Park at the time, literally.  We were one of 8 or so houses.  There were 6 of us in the house.  We were all just a little “quirky”.

The next morning, he stood in my kitchen making pancakes as my housemates filtered in, one by one.

That was 5 years ago.

I woke up this morning at 4:30, my sleep cycle is a bit off these days as I’m exploring the infinite abyss, wondering what the next step is, packing up my things once more.  I’d popped on the tv for some background noise and cruised the channels when I stumbled on Garden State.  So I stopped and watched, and let myself remember everything.