Remembering November

I'm sitting at the bottom of the stairs outside my apartment. I've carefully nestled myself at the corner of the concrete step in a Keri-sized patch of shade as if it was made for me and this moment. The coolness in the air and the ability to enjoy this spot without having to wipe the sweat from my brow takes me back to ten months ago when I first moved here. It was in November, so it got pretty chilly off and on, but during the warmth we spent our new days in the East side sitting on the porch doing a bunch of dreaming. It's so hard to believe we have been here nearly a year. Everything reminds me of then. The musky, disgusting smell of the ancient carpet that clings to our outdoor staircase is actually somewhat comforting to me. 

I love the way our neighbors have slowly crept their way back out to their front porches. School season means yellow buses passing by and students walking home. One of my favorite memories happened a couple days after we moved in. We were upstairs in the living room with the windows open, arranging furniture and settling in. We could hear little girls laughing hysterically followed by a crunching sound. We looked out the window and across the street a family had scattered all the coke cans they had collected onto their front yard. Four precious little girls giggled to no end as they jumped around, smashing the cans. Such simplicity. 

So here I am, just shy of a year later, arranging furniture in the same apartment and looking through the same window. Sitting in this same spot with the same weather. Funny though, how almost nothing is the same as in November...