It’s a quiet morning at the new apartment. My little desk faces a window, just as it did back at the house, and I get to look at at the little strip of “yard” behind our apartment, as well as the trees and townhouses beyond the fence. I can see blue sky and morning sunlight through the pines, and I hear birds and crickets softly chirping outside.
On Wednesday, the movers came to bring the heavy and big items from the house to this apartment. We were fortunate that my grandmother sent us gift money to pay for the move; I still have no idea how we could have done this without it. We’re unpacking gradually and were even able to cook our own supper last night. Our dishes and glasses and pans are all unpacked and put away; our clothes are unpacked into our dressers; we have shower curtains and bathmats. The TVs are both hooked up to cable and to DVD players, and our music CDs are on shelves now. There are probably more than 20 boxes of books; those will take the longest to unpack, sort, shelve, and repack (for the ones that we just don’t have the shelf space for in the house). We’re very lucky to have a large storage shed that is part of the apartment; some of the larger and infrequently used kitchen appliances and baking pans are out there, and I’m betting a dozen book boxes will join them.
On Wednesday, I’d forgotten to bring over my bag of prescription medications, so I had a long night, with plenty of wakefulness, tossing and turning, and ouchies. Yesterday morning we picked it up, and I had a much more peaceful night last night. After a blissful shower this morning, I could begin my workday. Cash is going to be tight for the next week or so, but we’re going to be all right. We really will be. After the fear, the frustration, the hard work, the weariness: we’re going to be all right.
There’s still a lot of work to do. I have lots of address-changing to do with banks and driver’s license and newspaper. We still have a lot of little stuff over at the house that we just didn’t get packed in time. We need to pack up our coolers and bring over the food from the refrigerator and freezer. The dirty laundry from the last week is still over there, and I want to get it washed and put away. There are still things to find in boxes, phone calls to make, bills to pay. Life is continuing to move on, and every morning, the sun will shine between the pines, where I can watch it from my desk.
I rather hope today stays quiet, refreshing. My heart yearns to bask in silence and peace. Contemplation feeds me. It’s a quiet morning at the apartment. And all will be well.