Going Goethe: Part Three

Monday, August 8, 2016

A few months have passed since I moved into my home on Goethe Street. At the risk of sounding trite, I have fallen in love -- both with the neighborhood and my little fixer-upper. By now, I belong. I've got my routines, favorite spots and the familiarity that comes with time spent in a new place.

The small things are what get to me. In the mornings, I brew a pot of drip coffee and make toast with strawberry jelly. Depending on my schedule and how I feel, I will do one of three activities: (1) watch the Today Show, (2) do a bit of a Bible study, or (3) play bossa nova and write. Today is a (3) day.

Once dressed and ready, I'll head downstairs and out the door to a warm summer morning. Dearborn Street is quite lush, and it's especially peaceful before lunchtime. I am greeted by elegant row houses and lamp post flower baskets -- on my corner, they are pink. From where I live, I can walk to my office in less than fifteen minutes, passing boutiques and al fresco caf├ęs. It is the loveliest commute.

My days are varied. Sometimes, I'll have paperwork and marketing to focus on, and other times, I am busy running from showings to meetings to events. No matter my agenda, there is nothing I love more than returning home at the end -- especially if I can time it right. Around 8 o'clock, the sun sets in the western sky, filling my living room with hues of rose and gold.

If I'm in on a weeknight, I'll cook dinner (translation: turn frozen food into hot food), light a candle and change into pajamas. After a long afternoon of go-go-go, there is nothing better than pure, easy rest. I am torn between mornings and evenings -- in this space, I cherish them both.

These are my "me" moments, but I'd be remiss if I did not mention how it feels to share my home with others. To sit by the window and sip tea with a new friend. To watch the cheesiest shows and drink cheap Chardonnay with an old one. To lay on the floor and talk about our biggest fears and worries with a dear sister-in-Christ.

Life on Goethe Street is not perfect. Yesterday, I had to pour half a container of a miscellaneous poison down my sink drain in hopes of unclogging it. Now and then, I feel lonely. As always, deals come together and fall apart. Life is never perfect.

But this chapter -- the Going Goethe chapter -- is still one of the best seasons, and I am thankful.

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