In The Still Of The Night

                                                                  Everyday is a brand new day
                                                                   everyday is a journey.


Kind actions, and good wishes, 
and pure thoughts
No mystery is here:
 Here is no boonFor high—
yet not for low: 
The smoke ascendsTo heaven
 as lightly from the cottage hearth
As from the haughtiest palace.

—William Wordsworth.

It was eerily quiet throughout our building over the weekend. There were no noises of slamming doors in the middle of the night nor vacuuming. No smells of skunkweed or arguments filling the air ducts. No one was doing laundry at 3 a.m. The building sat still as it should upon the midnight hour. Even during the day, silent and peaceful. The halls weren't littered with screaming children running up and down. There were no candy wrappers or toys strewn across the stairs.

It's funny how bad neighbors never last. One can spend an agonizing year or two with a neighbor from hell, but never beyond that. Even though it felt good to retain some peace within these walls, I still felt saddened by their leaving. Crazy, isn't it? This is not how things should have ended. I truly liked this family when they first moved in. Then she quick her job and spiraled quickly back into drugs.

It's true what they say, you know. Idle hands are the devils playground. I believe her downfall came during this time of not working. Most likely, it began with just one and now, consequences came home to roost. We make choices and we have to live with the results of these choices.

Over the years, I've seen many people come and go. So many stories, so many suffering people. So many good people. I wonder about them all from time to time. What are they doing now? Are their lives better? Or worse? So many of them pass through our lives like stepping stones on the grass. I wonder who will move in next and the type of people they will be.

I've been really wanting my resting home. Just a small space of our own or just for me. A place where I could unpack all my yarn, supplies and books. A craft room, a real craft room. I don't want to live in boxes and "might have been" dreams anymore.

I get like this every time I'm off visiting small town Americana. That's my love, small towns. I want to go to the same Church for years and run into those same people everywhere I go. That's small town Americana. That's where I belong.

Have a blessed day everyone.