A story by Leo Gonzales

Image: Untitled by Leo Gonzales

I. In the wall stains of the house, the man who moves out of his home considers his way of going about work. His job was not something he was passionate about but a vessel to make a purchase. A land purchase. Now that he has his land waiting for him, he waits to rest upon the houseless mound with a tent. The boxes rest in his emptied home, and upon the flaky cardboard of the last packed he waits for the movers and considers the beauty of an empty home with nothing on the walls. As he moves his remaining plant to neutral light, he considers leaving it because the green compliments the white walls. A vine that keeps growing. He sees it as a plant that demands people to stop and love it, and then brushes off the idea.

II. He calls the movers and tells them to hurry as he eats oranges on the front porch step. The smell comes to him and the citrus leaves a stain on his palms. As he considers money as a vessel for opportunity, he peers upon himself as a vessel for the company – he wonders if the company looks at him as he looks upon the plant, as a relationship. Or he wonders if the company uses his incentive to accomplish tasks as something to focus on, not a stand-by but a stand-behind. Dependability or with love, he settles on the fact that the company needs him as much as he needs the company. But with how much care and reciprocity does the weight carry? He remembers doing remote work with a smart phone, a toned-down meditative oasis for the types of workers whose job it is to focus on machines as much as care about the patient. And then the movers arrive.

III. While driving to the land, he remembers pre-built frames. Large wooden frames that were easy to just buy and tow. The sale design made him happy because he knew he could skip the details of making something and jump to the incentive of customizing long-term intrinsic value. Arriving to the empty grass lot, there was a longing he felt for, a willow tree in the neighboring lot. He remembered a feeling of happiness when he once learned about buddhism, in a what is that kind of way. He didn’t really have a religion but the tree gave him a sort of hearth as he walked as many steps as he could through his tent. There was a hidden wavelength of happy in camping that he felt, one that rested especially lightly on homeless people he assumed.

IV. After settling, he rustles in uncomfortable sheets with street light pouring in through the linen in his tent. He worries for a moment about his heart-shaped plant, and then worries about what there is to worry about once his home arrives. And then he thinks of what hotel to stay at, whether he will save his money in a nice but not too nice suite or whether he will make a memory at a historic hotel. He dozes off and his mind starts to wonder odd, and he feels a sudden heartfelt want to do a better job at his job. He receives a business conference call with greenery around him and is suddenly self aware of his work-first, family-second lifestyle.

V. In the morning he is groggy, and he remembers when he used to wake up happy, just to move about neighborhoods alone. He wants to go on a walk but he wants to sleep more. And then he remembers how happy he was that he would be back in bed, and that a good day was over. He hopes that feeling is easy to capture again, and he let as much dim light in through his cheap tent window as he could. He takes a selfie, and there’s no social media account to post on so he just watches himself with the image of the plant beside him. He thinks of when he purchased the land in comparison to when he purchased the plant, how the moment he purchased it he knew that he would make himself happy in some way, either in the moment or later, and he listens to his own heart. Then an exaggerated form as he drifts to sleep; plants the heart-shaped plant outside. Always a quietly desperate tone of be funny followed him. And he remembers a feeling he had amidst college teachings, how such guidance and a loving instinct would reach him. He falls asleep again and thinks of how similar Jesus was to Buddha, how they were so good for the economy. And then he wakes to a light rain at his side.

This work was featured in issue #11