Home of Our Own

“It’s moving day.”

Alex’s excited exclamation brought Bucher and me out of bed in a hurry after three months in the Fort George Hotel. It was late May when we finally carried our suitcases up the newly painted steps of our rented house on Eyre Street.

There was still a lot to be done. The varnish on the floors had not quite dried in the humid weather. We avoided the living room for a day and a half (which wasn’t difficult since it didn’t have a scrap of furniture in it) and walked stickily through the bedrooms, not giving a darn for the eventual looks of the floors because we were so annoyed at having been kept out of the house so long.

The house is closer to Alex’s school. Almost directly across the street from the house, a short lane leads to Memorial Park where the children play in the afternoon under Sonia’s watchful eyes.