Home is where the heart is

"Zat's it?" Grumbles Consuela who is unable to hide her discontent.  The three of us are standing in front of the abandoned store front that I've purchased.  It's a busy morning in the city, but this particular area seems to be rather peaceful at the moment.

"Where's your imagination?" I smile as I pull out my key and open the door to our new shop.  "It's Perfect!" I exclaim with a big smile.

The two of them stare at me blank face; as if I'm trying to sell them swampland.

"Why don't you like it?" I ask a moment later when it's clear that I'll have to perform some sort of voodoo in order to get them on the same wave length.

"Itz dirties," says Consuela who finds herself too fancy these days to take a seat at one of the tables left by the previous owners.

"Well, that's the thing about dirt," I tell her as I walk over to the sink behind the counter.  I try to ignore the mouse feces near the bottom of the cabinets as I reach for the faucet to turn on the water.  I'm instantly greeted with a loud guttural sound.  The plumbing has taken it's last breath. 

Brown gunk oozes from the tap.

"Yes?" Consuela goads me.  She's not impressed by the amount of work that needs to be done -- especially since she is well aware that she'll have to do the majority of the cleaning. 

Our new friend isn't so proud.  Most of his cuts and scrapes from the other day are well on their way to healing.  He happily takes a seat at the table next to Consuela.

"Home?" he asks. 

I am immediately revived with purpose.

"Yes!" I say as I realize that there is a momentary connection between us.  "Home.  Home is upstairs," I point and then motion for the both of them to follow me up the back stairs to a series of small apartments that come with ownership. 

"This is your new home," I say to him as I open one of the doors and watch him walk into the room with awe and wonder. 

The apartments are in much better condition than the store front.  The artists that lived in them took relatively good care of them.  When the painters come in the day after tomorrow they will look as good as new.

I lean against the main wall of the apartment letting the sound of the now busy street below envelop all three of us like a warm welcome blanket. 

When I realize that my eyes are closed, I open them again to see our friend scouring the floor for treasures.  I watch with almost as much excitement hoping that he finds something to commemorate this new chapter, but when he turns up empty handed I simply shrug my shoulders and tell him that there will be lots more lucky pennies in his future.

The sentiment seems to pass right through him, but he does manage to give me a big smile before saying "Home!" again with excitement.

"Mia, yerz iz toos nice," says Consuela who has very little tolerance for him.  I cut her a sharp glare that lets her know that she better change her attitude, and a moment later she flashes me a fake smile before turning around and stomping back down the stairs.

"Come on," I coax, trying to entice him to leave the apartment.  His excitement has frozen him in his spot, and so I let him stay  a few seonds longer to enjoy this moment. 

When I hear Consuela yelling at the Contractors who have just arrived to 'not breaks anysing', I know we need to move along.  "Come on," I say again -- but he just flashes me a great big smile. 

In an effort to snap him out of delirium, I decide to try a different tactic.  I give my hands a large *clap* hoping to gain his attention; but much to my amazement and delight he replies instantly and with near perfect timing;

"Johnny Appleseed, Amen!"