Third floor reflections

“You have come out of darkness, into the light” were the first excited words out of my father’s mouth on entering the third floor apartment—and he couldn’t have been more right.

Don’t get me wrong, we loved our West Philly home. It was the hub of hipster life in which I first wet my feet in an effort to take on the City. On 46th street I took on learning the art of public transit and bedbug annihilation; met my husband and made him wait at the door of my bell-less apartment complex for more hours than I will ever admit; and watched the sun set over the city skyline from my unconventional “roof spot”. On 50th street we made our first home together and we met Ms. Mary who always had the latest neighborhood gossip. We loved our West Philly home. But it was time for a shift, and we felt it. A windowless apartment, or “dungeon” as my Dad would have said, moved us closer each day to the edge of the question—what next? What we didn’t have, and longed for, was a sense of being known; this thing we call community.

So now it’s moving day—up to the third floor of this magnificent old house. The house I watch being dreamed over, worried over, sweated over. The house so many hands had sorted, demolished, cleared, and cleaned. Here on the third floor, the door opened bathing us all in new light. The smell of fresh paint and finished floors filled our noses. Our new home awaited us.

After hours of hauling we were finally finished. Dee had popped in with a welcoming smile, despite her never-ending laundry list of “to-dos”. Thea and Luke had stopped by between “Yes And” shows for some quick hugs. Our hopefully-still-friends had left upon moving the last box, and we were finally winding down. Then a knock came at the door; three faces starred back at me accompanied by a note:

Dear Shawn and Cammy,

Welcome to our house! I am very glad that you are living here and I look forward to getting to know you better. I think we will become good friends.

From Sophia.

P.S. you can give all your scraps to the chickens”

We are so thankful for this light.