And just like that, life is easier.
On Friday, we were living in one place; on Saturday, we moved into another. On Sunday, we spent the day walking the area around our apartment, visiting the teeny tiny park, drinking pumpkin spice lattes, getting new filters for the vacuum so that not a speck of dirt from the old place would find its way into our new place.
I can feel it internally, in the way I breathe, the length of time between blinks, the habit of walking again without socks.
The books are away in the bookshelf, the magazines hang on their rack, the shoes in the drawer, the supplies of every day needs neatly stacked on the bathroom shelves. In the span of two days we have found order, organization, and a patch of sunlight streaming through the 3rd story living room windows.
The same 3rd story windows that look out at the trees where squirrels and birds live.
The same trees that still bear the scars of the being burned two years ago when this apartment complex went up in flames.
That's why despite being in an older building, our apartment--and several others that were destroyed by the fire--is nice and new, because it was the epicenter of the fire that displaced a dozen people, injured 2 firefighters, and made the skies black with smoke.
Two years ago this place was destroyed. It took a year to renovate and rebuild the complex in order to make it inhabitable. It took a weekend for it change our attitude.
It's amazing what a little sunshine through the window can do for the soul.
And it's amazing how a little less than a month ago I was falling apart at the seams, and yet here I am, looking out my window at a tree, blackened by fire, home to birds and squirrels.
There's a parallel in there somewhere.