Worship And Other Love Rituals

Chapter 4

The house was a mess, no doubt about it. Peeling floral wallpaper that was probably last in style during the Nixon administration. Dust bunnies the size of rodents congregating in every corner. Creaky floorboards that sounded their protests with each step. Your typical haunted house decor straight out of a horror movie set. But I was on a mission to transform this place from creepy to cozy, fueled by enough coffee to keep a small country awake for a week and a few of those little white pills the doctor prescribed "for anxiety as needed." Hey, moving across the country with an 8-year-old counts as a valid reason for anxiety, right?

So armed in my cleaning war armor - rubber gloves, frilly apron, mouth scarf and all - I attacked that house with the fervor of an avenging angel. And slowly but surely, order emerged from chaos. The cadaver-colored carpet lost its mysterious stain (don't ask what it was but lots of bleach was involved). Wallpaper was stripped away to reveal cracked but clean plaster beneath. By nightfall, a neat little home lay beneath the surface grunge, waiting to shine again. Sure there were still some leftover "design elements" as the HGTV folks say, like the wall mural in the bedroom that resembled a seriously bad acid trip from the 60s. But a few little touches like fresh flowers and family photos made it feel cheerier already.

Leo, my little tornado of kinetic energy packaged in an 8-year-old body, seemed thrilled by our new small-town life. After a few tears over leaving his beloved Atlanta Falcons bedroom behind, he perked right up once I showed him the school. Quaint little Harmony Springs Elementary wasn't exactly state of the art with its chalkboards and lack of iPads. But the playground had these massive climbing trees perfect for a daring young adventurer. Plus the class sizes were small. Like 12 kids to a room small. For a shy little guy like Leo more suited to blankies and story time than death-defying stunts, all that personal attention from teachers was a godsend.

And the principal, Mr. Carter, couldn't be nicer. With his fuzzy grandpa sweaters and cheerful smile, he reminded me of a storybook character. During Leo's intake interview, I swear his eyes actually twinkled when he spoke about their "nurturing approach to education." Such a sweetheart. Like everything else in this sunny riverside town, the school oozed romantic charm.

Like a kid set loose in a candy store, Leo proceeded to join every possible club that first week - gardening, art, chorus. Oh and the football team too for reasons passing understanding. I mean the kid can barely walk five feet without tripping over his own shoelaces. Let's just say sports coordination isn't his strong suit! But he sure was excited to make new friends. My little social butterfly flitted here and there, sampling everything his new home had to offer with fearless enthusiasm.

Even on the career front, things were looking promising. Thanks to the magic of WiFi and social media, I'd managed to line up freelance web design gigs for several local businesses while overseeing the move-in madness. Bakeries, boutiques, even a few scrappy Instagram influencers trying to build their brands. The flexibility of working from my laptop meant I could drive Leo to and from school, help with homework, all those little parental duties that my high intensity Atlanta job had never permitted. And remarkably enough, despite the added responsibilities of single parenthood in a new town, I felt more at ease than I had in years.

So on that first Friday evening as shadows lengthened across the yard, I found myself relaxing on the porch swing with a glass of sweet tea (yes, we drink that stuff now!), watching the fireflies begin their nightly dances across the field. Cows gazed back placidly from the next farm over. Cicadas and crickets performed their twilight sonatas in the oaks overhead. Talk about pastoral splendor! If you ignored the ominous creaking noises every time the swing moved, suggesting imminent structural collapse...Anyway, through the gentle susurrations of country life all around, niggling doubts still pricked at my mind sometimes about whether I'd made the right choice uprooting us. Whether Leo would adjust okay. Whether I could truly start over again so far from everything familiar.