home

When I was at home, I could get up on any random day and decide that it would rock.
I could dust off my melancholy, wash off my slobber and put on a pair of too-high heels.
I could text a bunch of friends, find out where they'd be and just show up.
I could drive anywhere and in any direction, as long as I had enough money for petrol.

It could be twelve am, right smack in the middle of nothing and possibility and decide to go to Marquee if it was a Friday, or a late movie if it was a Monday, or Bogobiri if it was a Tuesday. Well, maybe not quite midnight.
And if I was bored today I would know without a shadow of doubt that the weekend - oh the weekend! - would come packed with layers and layers of activity.

When I was home, I could call up my friends and have a sleepover. I could go out for drinks with any random admirer. I could design a dress for a random wedding. I could take my hair out without having to think it through.

When I was home...
I would have been crippled if I'd been at home today. I would have died and not gone anywhere for days.
Then I would have called my darlings and said, "I must rock this weekend! Will you sleep in my house?"
And we would have rocked.