The Loft

     I’m out of the basement. In one truckload, everything that belongs to me was driven out of the driveway, down five blocks, over one, and hauled up a long flight of stairs. It found its temporary home in the middle of the one room loft. The kitchen in spacious for one; it has a big window and a cute table. The main room has a single bed, the size of which I haven’t seen since hosteling in Europe at the cheapest hostel I could find. The furniture that was in the apartment was scattered in a way that divided the room and made it feel rather claustrophobic. But I saw the potential of the room and with some elbow grease and a few grunts, things were moved against the wall and stacked orderly. 

   Three big windows look out to the quiet street, and the peaked ceilings make the room feel larger than it is. The closet is technically a storage room with a built in dresser, but I will refer to it as the walk-in closet. There’s a fireplace that doesn’t work, a step leading into the bathroom that I always fall out of, and an eerie quiet that makes me feel like I’ve found the perfect nook for my books and I. The house is over a hundred years old, built in 1906. There are 7 apartments in the building and I wouldn’t be surprised to notice a few ghosts. Oh, to see what these walls have seen…

   Living in an ancient house is kind of where I was always meant to be. It’s quiet. I’m alone. But I’m happy up in my little loft. It reminds me of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and also of growing up in the loft of our house back home. My favourite room is always the highest one with the highest window. 

   The day has been long, and I am tired and sore, so its off to bed for me. I’m excited to see what the next thirteen months bring. Calgary has been good to me so far. 
Stay bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, world! 
All my love, 
A very weary Sarah

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