Weird Objects and Weirder People

There is a toothbrush hanging on the wall of the bathroom that my brother and I share back home that is probably about 4 feet long. The bristles are as big as my head, and the point on the bottom—I think it’s supposed to be a tooth pick?—is a muted orange in the shape of a Hershey’s kiss.

There is a table between the couch and the window in the office, between the two little nooks that shoot off on either side. On top of it there are pictures of my brother and I at various ages in our lives. In braces and glasses and middle school uniforms. With stages of haircuts, and bad teenage acne. There are weird small pots on the table too, maybe 4 or 5 of them. Art class experiments that should have been thrown out half a dozen years ago, but our parents held on to in fits of sentimentality and pride.

There is a bookcase in the family room that reaches almost all the way to the ceiling. It’s stuffed to the brim with anything and everything. Menorahs and candlestick holders, board games and high school yearbooks. Photographs of cousins and senior pictures of my brother and I, big enough that they are almost true to size.

On the counter on the kitchen there is a pan full of frogs. It’s a sculpture, but it takes a moment to be sure that my family hasn’t fried some amphibians for fun. It came from my grandmother, I think, but it’s been in our kitchen for as long as I can remember—scaring friends who come to visit and making me laugh every morning, when it’s early and I’m still not quite awake.

There is a lamp in the front hall that looks like a pop art painting of a TV. It’s purple and yellow and you can turn it on with a click. The antenna is black and a few inches high. It might be my mother’s favorite object in the house, and it brings a spot of color to the warmth.

There is a chalk board that hangs near the kitchen table that my mother writes messages on. The message changes depending on what’s going on in our lives. It’s said “Welcome home Jordan!” a handful of times and “Welcome home Daniel!” a few as well. “I love my children” has shown up once or twice, and “I hate bears!” was there for a month or so when my brother was off hiking for a summer. “I love vodka” has made an appearance as well. My family has varied interests.

There is a line of bottles on a window sill right near the chalk board. They’re covered in designs and dates of important events. There are coke bottles from presidential inaugurations and from Olympic ceremonies. I don’t know how they came to be in our house, but the collection has grown over the years. The glass bottles catch the light from the window and shine in patterns on the wooden floor.

I miss the little things about home. How comfortable it feels. How I know every little nook and cranny. I get to go back there in six days. See my parents. Pet my dog. Catch up with my little brother, who I haven’t seen since May and who I miss an obscene amount.

It’s almost Thanksgiving now. I’m thinking about it now, as pull together lesson plans and clean the apartment that doesn’t really feel like home. I’m thankful I have somewhere, somewhere good, to go home to. A good place full of weird objects and weirder people. I love them all.