It’s almost midnight here on the west coast. The house that I live in in silent, with just the occasional creaks one comes to expect from a 80 year old building. I’m in the basement — where my apartment is — tucked in my bed, with a small dim reading light casting shadows across the room, contrasting sharply with the bright whiteness of the glowing screen of my laptop.
Today my landlady — who is getting divorced — informed me that she wanted to rent the entire house out, and move into the apartment I have currently occupied since 2009. We’ve had an otherwise amicable relationship, but as one could imagine, the news served to spike my blood pressure not by a small amount, and generate a mood swing that is stacking on top of the darkness I am already grappling with. I’m a poor graduate student at the moment — there are not a lot of options for me when it comes to moving. This situation has to be sorted soon, as need to be out of here by May 1.
As I lay here, it is hard not to take note of the calm stillness that is slowly pressing in on me, and the little light that weakly, yet valiantly tries to ward away the dark. I had not noticed it in this house before. It is peaceful. I will miss it.