The Courage to Stay

Making a home after years on the move

Tired pooch, first days in a new apartment.

Nestled in the grey of dawn, surrounded by what’s true to me, beautiful to me; an apartment sparse with things that reflect who I am — my quirks, passions, tastes.

The sleepy dog lies on the floorboards that squeak with most steps. I’m learning the dance so my partner may sleep in peace when I stir.

Morning light filters through the wall of windows, through which all I see is green. Verdant leaves; black crows bobbing atop reaching branches; dangling, flowering fruit; and scouring squirrels, jumping daringly from roof to treetop.

Beneath the windows lies a patch of poppies, yellow and orange and full of life. Below the deck in the back, a creek.

You’d think I was in the mountains or a town to hideaway. But it’s my apartment in the heart of Oakland, California. You can hear the freeway in the distance.

Across the creek there’s a fence with barbed wire, a graffitied brick wall beyond. It feels like a dystopian film when a modern city’s been forgotten and the undergrowth has taken over — a complexion of urban and wild, metal, wood, brick, and leaves.

I love this place, and it’s only been a week.

Interior design has always fascinated me. Style. Dare I say things, and the way…