I'm not sure I am so easy to live with. Tod is my roommate. We share a bedroom. We share a small apartment in the basement of the home we care take for. Up until he started driving a cab this Spring, we both were here 24/7. For almost three years. Day in and Day out. Lately I have been moaning about wanting to be alone. Wanting my own place, space. The fantasy would be to have a space big enough that we could each have our own bedroom, our own office or place to hang out. It's not so much I want to live by myself as much as I need more space for me.

We are a strange pair. I met Tod when I was still homeless. I had been camping in the Green Mountains and decided I liked it here. I met some people who owned a pottery school and when they saw my drawings and tiles I had painted in MN the year prior, they insisted I stay. (ironically they are the place that last week I noticed a 'for lease' sign up and thought wow I could rent this and have my own studio/gallery!) They let me camp on their land in the forest until I found an apartment. Soon thereafter I met a woman at an art party who immediately told me to stay with her until I found a place. That people who did not know me let me stay with them in their homes....on their property, amazed me. I stayed with Liz, she owned a B& B and on my second day there Tod showed up.

Liz also had an organic farm stand and Tod told me that he didn't want to leave the house (he was already a caretaker here and doing his zen/float tank thing since the owner had died and he was basically alone, he rarely went anywhere) but something just told him to go there and buy vegetables. He comes up and Liz insisted he stay for dinner, all three of us, strangers at best, made dinner and had deep intense conversation until after midnight.

I got a little studio apartment in Waterbury, about 10 mi. south of Stowe where Tod and Liz lived a few days later. Liz (who is also an artist and one of my two friends here) loaned me a table and chair, I bought a few things at garage sales and started making ART! I had no idea who Tod was or how old he was. He looked ancient. He looked youthful. I was in twitchy eye nervous what am I doing who am I mode and Tod was accepting of how displaced I was. He wasn't like everyone else (no one I like ever is). He wasn't after anything. He just was.

I think I asked him to go to Burlington with me to get my oil changed. It was kind of a date, which is strange since I wasn't looking to be with anyone. I found out I was nine years older than he was. My youth and his old met. We hit it off. Soon I was spending a good deal of time with him but it wasn't like any of my usual encounters or romances. He wasn't attached and I was numb and searching for my self.

What happened is a sort of neat melding of two people. I lived in a hell hole. My landlord lived above me and slept maybe three hours. Later he told me he was a divorcee, and an ex heroin addict/alcoholic who had 'another drunk in him'. In the wee hours he would pace on wood floors, above my studio apartment, with boots on. T.V. blaring. I never slept. I was working part time as a massage therapist 14 mi away and basically losing my mind from lack of peace. I had however managed to start making some art and taking a tile class. I lived three houses from a railroad and started picking up RR plates and scrap and lugging it all home. My apartment got stuffed. Tod started visiting more and we realized we had art in common.

Tod wasn't as social as most people, he was still in float mode and we began a strange relation-ship of boyfriend/girlfriend. I say strange because both of us were surrounded by a thick insulation. His was one of moving towards enlightenment and mine was of self discovering and art mode.

to be continued......


Daphne said...

"My youth and his old met".

Well, said P. Your last two posts have been interesting and so well written.


Bob Johnson said...

Ditto , I like that phrase, good to get to know you a bit more.

DJPare said...

Sounds like a nice story so far!