The same day, but with a new view—a wonderful view. I could feel warmth as I stood outside, the blue sky stretched directly above me, and the sun shone brighter than ever. Today, I could feel a new life beginning.
The Adler household had just moved into a new apartment in Manchester.
"Soren, come help your mom lift this box."
"Yes, Mom, coming!" I replied.
"Mom, have you seen Aurea? I haven't seen her since the morning."
"Oh yes, she's down in the garden, swinging with all her might."
"Mom, why does she get to have fun while I'm stuck doing all this hard work? It's so unfair!"
"Soren, we just shifted here today, and you're the elder child. You should help your mom and dad with the moving. Don't you think we'd also like some rest?"
"Yes, Mom, that's true. I shouldn't have complained—you're right. Let's get this over with and have our lunch."
After we finished carrying the last of the boxes, I finally stepped back to catch my breath. The apartment felt empty now, but the sunlight spilling through the large windows made it feel alive. Everything smelled new—the faint scent of fresh paint, polished wood, and the faint tang of cardboard.
I glanced out the window at the garden below. Aurea's laughter carried up to me, light and carefree. She swung back and forth, completely lost in the moment, and for a second, I envied her freedom.
I walked over to the kitchen, helping Mom unpack some of the smaller things. She smiled at me when I handed her a stack of plates. "Thank you, Soren. It means a lot."
I nodded, trying to hide the twinge of jealousy I still felt. Today was supposed to be exciting, a fresh start, but somehow it already felt like work. And yet… I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different this time. Something in the air, the sunlight, the way the wind moved through the trees.
It was as if this new place wasn't just a new apartment—it was a chance for something to change.
I shook my thoughts loose and turned back toward the apartment. "Aurea!" I called down to the garden. "Lunch is ready!"
For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the faint rustle of leaves. Then, her laughter carried up again, closer this time. She waved at me from the swing, her smile bright enough to make the sunlight seem dull in comparison.
"Coming!" she shouted, hopping off the swing and running toward the apartment stairs. I watched her for a second, the carefree energy in her steps making me both smile and sigh.
Inside, Mom had set out the plates, and the smell of fresh food filled the kitchen. I helped Aurea carry her plate to the table, silently glad that for now, the little things—sunlight, laughter, and lunch—felt enough.
The afternoon drifted lazily into evening. After lunch, Aurea and I had spent some time in the living room, half-watching TV while the sun slowly sank behind the city skyline. The light through the windows softened, painting golden streaks across the floor.
Once the show ended, Aurea tugged at my hand. "Let's go outside! The evening air feels nice."
I nodded, stretching and stepping onto the pathway that led toward the garden. The world outside felt calmer now, the bustle of the city quieting down. The soft glow of the setting sun turned the buildings a warm orange, and I could feel the day slowly winding down.
As we walked, two children were heading back through the gate, their small backpacks bouncing with every step. They were strangers to me, but something about the ease in their laughter and the energy in their movements caught my attention. I made a mental note of them, curious, though I didn't know it yet, their paths would cross ours in ways that mattered.
Aurea skipped ahead, humming a tune I didn't recognize. I followed, the last rays of sunlight warming my back. For now, it was just the two of us in this new place, the promise of the evening stretching ahead.
By the time the evening rolled in, we had unpacked most of the boxes, and Mom reminded us it was time to settle down for a little studying. I pulled out my books, sitting at the table with Aurea beside me, trying to focus on equations and grammar, though my mind kept wandering to the new surroundings.
Dinner was simple but comforting. The warmth of the food, the soft chatter of the family, and the fading sunlight outside made the apartment feel more like home. Afterward, Aurea and I curled up on the couch for a while, watching cartoons on TV. Laughter echoed softly through the rooms, mixing with the distant hum of the city.
That night, I went to bed with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. It had been a long first day in the new apartment, but a good kind of tired.
The next morning, my school was canceled, so I woke up early, stretching lazily as the first light of dawn crept through the windows. I turned on the TV and watched Tom and Friends for a while, letting the cheerful chaos wake me up properly.
After the show ended, I studied a bit more, reviewing notes and trying to make sense of some tricky problems. Then, just as I was packing my books away, my cousins arrived. Excited laughter filled the flat again, and the day stretched ahead, full of possibilities.
After breakfast, my cousins and Aurea couldn't wait to explore the garden. The morning air was crisp, and sunlight spilled over the lawn, making everything feel alive and fresh.
As we stepped outside, I noticed the two children from the evening before, already playing near the swings, their laughter floating across the garden. I hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath.
"Hey… can I play with you?" I asked.
They glanced at me, grinned, and nodded. Relief and excitement rushed through me. While I joined them, my cousins ran off to play with Aurea, chasing each other and laughing as they explored the garden together.
We didn't have proper wickets, so we used the slides and stairs as markers for an improvised game of cricket. The ball bounced unpredictably, and the game quickly became chaotic—but that only made it more fun. Laughter echoed through the garden as we ran, dodged, and tried to hit the ball.
For the first time since moving, I felt completely at home—not just in the apartment, but here, surrounded by people who were starting to feel like friends. Even seeing Aurea giggling with my cousins made the morning feel lighter, warmer.
By the time we stopped, the grass was damp with dew, our clothes smudged with dirt, and our shoes muddied. But it didn't matter. We had played, and it felt like the first real memory of this new place—a memory I knew I wouldn't forget.