It was five years this April that I’ve lived in my Boulevard Park tree house. I was 25 years old when I moved in and it seems many lives ago; so much has happened in those few short years. I had made the move to be closer to the restaurant I was managing at the time. Shortly thereafter, I quit that job. This apartment has seen me through alcoholic boyfriends, bouts of celibacy, hypnotherapy, dark and tantalizing prospects, and many, many nights of excess. If it weren’t for the safety, sovereignty and opportunities this apartment has provided, I would be fucked up far worse than I am. But now it’s time to move-on to bigger and better things. What I leave behind as my mark, and my contribution to something beautiful, is a sacred space—land transformed.

It started as therapy. When I was in the process of manifesting my nest, I wrote out pages and pages of what I wanted for my space. Somewhere I could grow was at the top of my list—and I mean that in every sense of the word. But, for the first year, or so, I had no idea there was even a back yard! Of course, time spent traveling to hippie-Rasta shows, dropping ecstasy, and drinking at the bars with my then-boyfriend, could have been a contributing factor to my lack of observation. (Christ, I wasn’t even there three quarters of the time.) The other factor keeping me away was the 66-hour workweek I was tending. It’s a no wonder I had to burn off so much steam! After I left The Restaurant due to a nervous break down, any thought of going back to the industry for a job was banished. I moved to hypnotherapy—it was the natural progression. I thought that a job in the healing arts was just what I needed. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, however; I was not prepared for the pile of drama that I had just stepped in.

Then one morning I walked out to my car and it wasn’t there. Welcome to Downtown! This was my out, though, and I took it. I called in with no car and told them to kiss my sweet ass. My next move? Tower Café. That was one of the best years of my life. And with that euphoria came an offer I almost couldn’t refuse. Toward the end of that ride stepped in a specter who promised much, but who nearly destroyed me. Once again, if it weren’t for this apartment I might have allowed myself to be drunk and abused in a beautiful mansion with a million dollar view. But I rode it out, and many other adventures, to be where I am now: ready to board a new ride.

 

One day during all of this self-imposed turmoil, my right breast started to bleed. Things started to change very quickly thereafter. I knew what this could mean and I was only in my twenties; life hadn’t even begun yet. Just then an angel appeared in my life to help guide me out of the pit of despair I had created. He took care of me and never, ever took anything else. From the day I met him I started to heal. He would take me out, or I would make him a meal. Once we even shot a spot in this kitchen. But at the end of the night I always got to come home-come home-to this apartment. And that was part of the therapy, being home.

The years waned and my tastes, and budget, changed-along with my jobs. By the second year in this place I had discovered the garbage dump of the previous tenants that was the back patch. They had finally made good on their promise to haul a few loads over to the dump. Woohoo! I immediately saw the potential and kick started my vision with an intimate art show. The pile of crap was craftily laid out and hidden with friend’s works and flowers. Once Mom caught on to my plans, she helped in any way she could. The suggestion had been made by one of my neighbors to dig a fire pit, and I ran with it. I was able to get bricks donated from the old Sub Shack, an East Sacramento legend, and off to work I went.

 

Throughout the years many fires have been burned and many friends have kept me company. I have-not single handedly-transformed a devastated piece of land into a lush oasis. Many times the worries of the world have weighed heavily on my shoulders, and then I would retreat to the back. Once I would take a breath of fresh air, stick my hands in the dirt, and pull a few weeds, all of that yuck would be taken care of by Mother. In return I gave her every gift I had. So much manure, and wine, and love has been poured into this soil the ground is sanctified.

This spot has helped me to realize the value of home and now this space is home to many families of birds, bees, ladybugs, and others. I feel blessed to be able to pass it on to the storeowner of DJ’s market and hope it will bring him the same joy and peace it has brought me. And while this parting may be bitter, it is also sweet. I am handing over this strip of sacred space to be shared by others so that I may start again with a new, larger piece of land. With the Summer Solstice comes a new year-and a new life. It just keeps gettin’ better all the time!