i try to remember

i try to remember
the last time i was this
nervous,
blood humming in my ears, even the
deaf side, so loud
that i remember the atlantic ocean
thrumming
one young summer.
my heart pounds and instead of
considering why
i recall the pow-wow, feet thudding,
color swirling, the steady beat of each drum.
air catches behind my ribs,
an invisible hand tugging it down,
further and further, and
the kite swoops towards tree,
red and light,
caught by tangled green branches,
and i cannot remember
how to breathe.

***

when i was a kid i used to hyperventilate on a semi-regular basis. my mom would hand me a brown paper lunch bag and tell me to breathe in and out, and remind me that my grandpa did the same thing. clearly i recall this on my first day of second grade, so many years ago now.

as an adult i cope better with nerves...but apparently not much better. buying my first home is...terrifying and wonderful. i'm excited to make the house my own, but at the same time, my "what if's" list expands with each minute, spiraling down and out of control, and i'm transported back years to the last time my breath escaped and i worried.

it comes and goes, these nerves, that scratchy feeling of fear, much as seasons whirl around, out of control. i know that it is within my capabilities to snatch it back and make it mine, make it useful, but today i cast my mind back, trying to find that anchor, and i'm adrift.

time to do something--activity always helps, no matter the kind, reminds me that life will continue, regardless of if i am at the helm.

estates that are real. aka, real estate.

so for a long time now i've been looking at houses online. it's been interesting, to see what's out there and also, perversely, to see how other people decorate their homes. *shudders*

at any rate, we've looked at 16 houses so far now--actually walked through with our realtor. saw two that were possibles...both of which had offers that were accepted before we could even formulate questions. i suppose that's to be expected.

where before it was interesting to see the houses online--pry into bedrooms and dens, peek at kitchens, wonder why on earth someone would put forest green carpeting with hot pink walls--now we get to actually go into it. we've seen some really...different places. one had a shrine to jagermeister, one had what appeared to be a flood in the basement, another had a shower that qualified for its own show on The Discovery Channel. nothing, yet, has been "the one."

everyone says you'll know it when you walk into it. i suppose that is true; i think of it in terms of other things i have acquired: shoes, purse, earrings, jeans. i see it and i think: that looks like something i would wear. or: that looks like it belongs in my house.

now i need to find that house that says: this is where i want to live. this is where i want to store all that other stuff that says "me" all over it, in shades of blue and green and pink and whatever other colors seem apropos.

i usually think of myself as going with the flow--accepting life as it comes, whatnot. it's strange to realize that you're exceedingly picky.

i was soothed tonight talking to dan's sister and bro in law; they looked at over thirty houses before finding the right one, and i'm guessing that we'll have to do the same.

years ago when i wanted something hard to find--a book, the right dress--i used to ask it to come to me, and then let go. just ask the universe at large--whatever you call it, spirit, god, jesus--to send that item my way. i haven't done that in a long time, mainly because i haven't needed anything in a long time. i need a house now, a place i can call home, where i can plant flowers and gripe about mowing the lawn and cleaning the gutters.

so here it is: home, find me.