A praying mantis lives on the ivy outside my bathroom window. Sorry, my landlord's bathroom window. Josh and I have lived here 15 years. Shawn has lived here with us for the past 7. We've had 4 different landlords. More upstairs neighbors than I can remember. Now, it's empty up there. The newest landlord wants to turn the whole building into his own house. So, we're looking for a house, too. The praying mantis looks for bugs to eat. They're attracted to the light from the bathroom window. I stand there and brush my teeth and try to find the mantis among the ivy, both the same Key lime green. There it is, staring back at me. I wonder how much of me it can see if anything.
The summer has been gross and sometimes heartbreaking yet kind. My allergies have laid me out. The air feels the sort of green that's closer to brown most days. Swamp weather. Maybe the endpoint of climate change is we all become amphibious again. My sinuses won't know relief until I adapt gills to vent the pressure. Shawn and I went to the campground in Kansas where you can be naked. We hiked down to the lake. It was covered in duckweed. Since we're not frogs yet, we didn't swim. We sat by the water's edge and let the breeze be a blessing.
I have a few jobs. One of them is transcribing interviews for a UFO journalist. Another is baking pies for a local restaurant. Sometimes, I draw, and people pay for it. Other times, I write, and people pay for it. There are weeks where all my jobs need my time. Then there are weeks where I have nothing to do. This week, I had time to have a migraine. I had time to crochet granny squares in different shades of turquoise. I had time to scroll Zillow hoping the right house would appear. I tweeted even though no one's there anymore. I do it like the owl in my neighborhood does every night, calling out just to have it on the record. I've assumed the owl is looking for a mate. Maybe it's just telling a joke. Over and over again the same joke about a different topic. "Look how stupid this is." Every night until someone laughs. I try to hoot in response. I sound like nothing so much as a dove.
Lately, I sit on the porch at night and smoke a joint with Shawn while Josh rides the exercise bike inside. We did it once. Now, it's a habit. I realize it's because I don't know if our next house will have a porch. We live at an intersection. I've seen so many people come and go. Soon, I'll go and won't come back. It's not beautiful to me yet, how my life will change. I hold on to things. I become comfortable, and I became comfortable here.
A good friend told me to visualize my new house. Bring it into being. I close my eyes and try. I fall asleep imagining I move into a seashell. That's not what she meant. She meant to picture all the things I want in a house. I dream about everything but a house. I dream I meet a football player I find beautiful. I dream I win the lottery. I dream a celebrity recognizes me in a restaurant. I dream I open my closet and find every toy I lost as a child. I wake up and search for the praying mantis outside my bathroom window.
It's gone.