Right now I am writing from my new little office. It’s a 6’ x 6’ little square room that seems to have been a total afterthought to the construction of this building, but it’s deliciously cozy in here. I have two windows – one that looks across the street into the little wine and cheese shop/wine bar I face, and the other looks down the facades of the other brownstones that run the length of elm-lined Trumbull Street.
I have been putting this apartment together one carload at a time, and I have been able to see how, slowly but surely, this place will begin to feel like home. I got my living room rug three days ago, and I was the slightest bit sad to see it put down. It transformed the room and made it look elegant and comfortable, like a place you could live in. I mentioned in my last post that I can already feel my time at Yale coming to an end – putting down that rug was the end of this moving-in chapter. It’ll never feel strange and empty in here, and I won’t have that echo in the summer heat when I move around in here. Of course I am glad to see it all come together, but dreadful time does seem to keep cadence without seeming to care what I have to say.
Onward and upward, however. Last Friday I walked into a used furniture store expecting what I’d seen in the countless Goodwill stores, Salvation Armies, antique stores, and TJ Maxxes. Wrong! I found my couch, a stunning antique hutch, an old Yale chair with the motto engraved on the back, and my new desk (which fits perfectly in my tiny study). And I felt guilty for paying so little for so many perfect solutions for my new place.
The items were delivered this evening in the pouring rain. Three wonderful men brought them upstairs for me. As soon as they left – voila. This place is a home. I’ve spent the evening arranging things this way and that, polishing, dusting, trying out.
I am listening to a few Rachel Portman soundtracks. Rachel Portman writes the music that would be called “Catherine’s Theme” on the soundtrack of the movie of my life. I’ve had tears brimming in my eyes since the movers arrived, and my chest is humming with the jittery fullness of gratitude. I can’t believe I get to live here. I can’t believe this all came together, and in ample time for school to start. I can’t believe I came to this strange city all alone and now have this little dollhouse on my hands. I am alive with visions and dreams tonight as I imagine this apartment full of new friends, full of family and old friends coming to visit (my college roommate is coming to visit tomorrow night and I am SO excited), I imagine silent nights alone writing and reading, I imagine coming back to this place after vacations. I can see myself waking up and going to sleep here, and learning, changing, and growing. I love my apartment. New year, commence!