Before we moved, we knew that our apartment wouldn’t be ready until July 10th. We arranged to sublease an apartment for six weeks almost next door to the permanent one. When we got here, we met the great family living in what would one day be our home. The children were the same age as our children, the daddy had just graduated with an M.Div. and the mama was a theater major back in her undergraduate days. If the man of the house had been a hunter I would have seriously wondered if the apartment was being “type-rented.” He wasn’t.
But yesterday that family moved out.
Today the apartment I thought of as theirs has become, in my mind, “mine.” I can see the empty rooms through the uncovered windows just waiting to be filled again and it makes the clutter of living temporarily more egregious. Yes, I know that the apartment manager is going to refinish the floors, power wash the basement, repair kitchen appliances and generally improve upon the place before we take possession. I understand that I knew this was going to happen, and I should have been prepared. I guess I’m just not self aware enough.
I think the next eleven days are going to be longer than the last twenty nine.