I’m afloat in my world right now, coasting between who I thought I was (married) and who I’m now destined to be (lots of things?). It’s an exciting, scary, exhausting, limboid journey littered with danger and uncertainty. Limbo – that’s where unbaptized babies were thought to go, in the Catholic doctrine of my youth. I always had viewed it as a crushing injustice, that a tiny baby would forever have to hover between heaven and hell simply because no priest had poured a bit of water on its little infant forehead. At least I’m moving out of my limbo.
In this floating state, I’m easily distracted and easily perturbed, often unexpectedly. I don’t know why this is.
Last week, I refinanced my house, which is very good news. Now it’s mine, just mine, a giant step forward in this march toward the true authentic me.
The next day I received two letters from my neighborhood homeowners association. The first read: It has been observed that you have an unapproved Black Life Matters sign. (It’s Lives, you idiot. Black Lives Matter. It’s a mistake that tells me so much about you.) I have 10 days or whatever to remove it.
The second letter: Please remove the weeds in the flower beds and in the driveway. Oh, bless your heart, HOA manager person.
It wasn’t the first time the HOA has contacted me. There’s the December letter a few years ago asking me to please take down my scarecrow (I put a Santa hat on his pumpkin head), the post-hurricane letter demanding I grind up the beautiful oak stump my children spent an hour rolling home from a debris pile (We moved it to the front porch and call it a table), and the letter asking me to stop storing surfboards in the front yard (They were only there for a single afternoon while drying off.) Also, I’ve had letters about dollar weed, taking too long to put my recycling bin away, and bicycles in the yard.
I usually just roll my eyes and do the bare minimum to comply with the directive. But this time, I felt stung, I guess because it’s now my house, my very own house, and it’s firmly planted in a homogeneous neighborhood where I didn’t want to live and where any kind of visual expression other than the American flag is against the rules. We moved here (for the excellent schools!) at his insistence, which I’m not sure was the right decision, but that’s another piece of writing for another day.
I was triggered. So I did one of a handful of things that help me when I feel triggered. I pulled out my newly fixed chainsaw and started cutting things. I trimmed bushes and branches, and then attacked the many palm trees in my yard. Those palm limbs reproduce and reach outward like ever-growing wings, and there are always some that need to be amputated from the trunk. I hate noise, but I embraced the roar of my little chainsaw, feeling the sound as it trembled through my arms and into my shoulders. One by one the branches fell, some green and some brown, some reddish and just turning yellow, dozens of them. I thought about lining my driveway with them like Jesus’ followers had done on the streets of Jerusalem. But I didn’t want another HOA letter.
As I scalped the final trunks, right before I broke the chainsaw (again), I found a little bird’s nest affixed between the shorn palm branches. It was vacant – I remembered the cardinal family nesting there last spring. But still I felt as though I had uprooted a treasured home.
I stopped everything and just thought for a moment. Then I picked up the nest and perched it securely back up in the palm tree. Maybe the cardinal will come back and see how cozy its home remains, regardless of where it sits.
11 responses to Signs of home (which are not allowed)
Love it. xo
I hate people like that! I am right there with you sister! It’s why I moved to Jax Bch. No HOA and no one telling me who I should reflect myself to be, conform to their “rules” and obey. Fuck that!
I am glad you saved the nest and are doing such an impressive job with this new path. It may not have been chosen, but I wish I had dealt with it as well as you are!
Love this! P.S. I’ve been in trouble twice already due to weeds in the garden in my new house.
Our HOA is crazy. They told me to take down my graduation sign 🙁
Can you start issuing the HOA citations for writing stupid letters? Can we toilet paper the manager’s house and then send them a letter asking them to remove the tp? Your cardinals will be back. They’re far more faithful than most humans.
I used to hate those Florida HOAs. Maybe they are like that everywhere. I hope you find a solution that complies with their stupid rules but still sticks it to them.
Maybe you could put the sign in an upstairs window. Blessings to you as you continue to navigate this rocky road. Divorce is so hard.
Another gem! Thanks for sharing! 👍❤️
Nastygrams, as I call them, from the HOA are always so rude, elitist and condescending. I hate them too. Great blog. And now that I know you are so handy with a chainsaw, I may ask you to come to my yard and help me with my palms!
So fierce. So fabulous. So love you.
Great entry. I despise HOAs and refuse to live in any neighborhood that has one. Your property, as long as it’s kept up and not unsafe, you should be able to decorate it as you please.
It’s only a matter of time til the hippies take over PVB!