It's been exactly one week since I set my boxes and boxes and more boxes of belongings inside this house, and it already feels like home. Perhaps this feeling of familiarity is all tender green's doing (rewind three years to the same walls in a larger room on the other side of the 401). But I like to think my sense of the familiar, of settling down, of arriving home, has more to do with one best friend and one skittish cat.
Whatever the cause of this instantaneous ease, I like it. I feel as though I've been making the two-minute trek from the subway station to this front door for months, not simply mere days. And this comfort is especially welcomed when everything else around me feels too transitional and unfamiliar. Sitting around new faces, around new circular tables, in new classrooms, in a new school(s) is all very overwhelming. My desk is already piled high with books needed to be read and understood (help!). Summer is starting to feel more and more like an extended dream. And as the dark creeps in earlier and earlier, and the pile of books continues to grow, I can't help but hope my heart is still in the right place.