She said, I want to live in an HOA.
I don’t want to see people’s trash
Pickup trucks
Old boxsprings
Unmowed lawns
Titled mailboxes.
Sheesh — why can’t they take pride in their homes?
Have nice, pretty plants
Manicured, clean edges
Clearly cared for….

… and controlled, I thought.

I once wanted the picture-perfect
Architectural Digest life.
That’s how I grew up
And was told it was the only right way
To be.

I did that for decades
Squeezing myself into a too-tight corset
Looking great on the outside
Crushed on the inside
Until I almost forgot how to breathe

You can’t live following someone else’s rules.
Exist, maybe, but not thrive.

Now my neighbors include an abandoned house
A boat on a hitch
A wild vegetable garden
Each home a glimpse into a human
Not the façade of conformity.

Today I seek the freedom of
Messy edges.

With thanks to my server, Denise, from Kiss Café – whose cheery morning conversation inspired me to find joy in messy edges.