*one month ago*
I am drawn out of a daze to look around at the boxes in my room. Each room holds a share of fond memories that I will soon have to leave behind. I walk along the hallway and remember the laughs and tears, the hugs and frustrations that have filled our home. Here is where I my energy soured, and crashed. I’ve loved our country home. Yet, there is so much more ahead.
So much more.
Day 1 in our new “home.”
Today is my second morning in our rental home. I have not yet adjusted to the hard bed or the creaky wood floor, but the room has a lovely layout. Above my bed are two windows that cast just enough light to see by on cloudy mornings. Bookshelves are carved into the wall on my right and a wooden bench in my closet has made for an ideal prayer corner. For now, the musty room has become my own.
Having just poured myself a cup of coffee, I balance the mug on one of my folded blankets as I write. After yesterday, I am feeling thoroughly exhausted, yet eager to explore more of the area later. Last evening, my dad and I went for a walk down our crowded street. The houses made starting contrasts, one painted with navy blue and mustard yellow, and another with teal and red. Each one of them was unique.
Turning the corner, we were met with evening traffic, giving the small area a big city feel. A long, glass bridge arched over the busy street, connecting two library buildings. Despite my aching feet, I felt compelled to peek inside. The library was unlike one I had ever seen before, the books neatly arranged in rooms according to age and genre. Upstairs was another vast collection of books, except instead of rooms, the open area was lined with cases of classics. In the center, there was a small shop, filled with a range of assorted authors.
As we perused the sales, I could not help noticing how strangely quiet the library was. There was no hushed chatter, or flutter of pages, only our own whispers as we exchanged books–maybe due to the fact that the place was winding down for the night. Although I was not finding any books worth buying, I enjoyed studying the colorful covers and taking in the aroma of old pages.
After nearly an hour of wandering around, the fifteen-minute warning sounded; by that time, I had to restrain myself from leaving with three new finds. As we found our way back to the entrance, I swung open the door to see the sun beaming down in between the trees. Eight forty-five and not a star in the sky yet. Summer has taken me by surprise.
I edged my way down the steps, my buckling knees begging me for a slower pace. Walking down the narrow sidewalk, we remarked further on the houses and laughed out of pure fatigue. I looked over to the pink sky and surveyed our new street. My body was hurting, but my heart was happy. I savored the last moments of the day, thankful that we have begun to near new beginnings.