A new home

I still do not have my curtains up, but it is beginning, slowly, to feel like home. Since moving into my new apartment life has been non-stop, full-on--it has been as life should be--full of the experience of living. I have had little time for writing lately. When I come home I manage to get a few more things organized, sometimes a bath, and then promptly pass out in my makeshift bed which is composed of a sleeping bag and two thin pieces of foam on the floor. Still....with a good deal of effort, lots of contributions from friends and the arrival of a suitcase of my belongings from California my space is starting to turn into something resembling a space that I can inhabit instead of a dumping ground. While my dear friend Ahava was on the island this past week she helped me gather some essentials and put together a small set of shelves to get my clothes off the floor (WHAT a brilliant idea!). She also gave me a beautiful painting which I will write about another time because it warrants its own blog entry.

I live in the heart of downtown Charlottetown. With all my windows propped open as they are now I hear the throb of the city in summer: live music, stragglers heading either to or from one of the city's many bars, the sound of motorcycles speeding by, wind in the trees, cars, and this evening some rather live recorded music coming from God only knows where. It is loud downtown--something I have not yet gotten accustomed to. The noise keeps me awake at night. And yet I love the convenience of being so close to everything. Being able to sit, as I did this evening, on Victoria Row -- a pedestrian only street -- and have a cool drink while I listen to live music and read my novel, and then stroll leisurely the one block home in five minutes. Yup. There are definitely advantages to being downtown.

I have been in so many spaces since arriving back on the island that it is hard to settle down and allow myself to nest. Part of me keeps expecting this space to be gone soon too. But this evening as I sit here watching the last of the light fade I am trying to let myself dream into this new space and life. To absorb all the change and consider my surroundings. Dogs bark. More cars. The recorded music that, if it does not get turned off soon is going to keep me awake yet again. The fading lilac and rose from the sunset. The deep blue sea of the sky. It is time to wander down to the basement that has a sign on it "enter at your own risk" and unload my last load of laundry before I collapse into bed.

Hoping you are all well! Greetings from the heart of summer on Prince Edward Island.