Reading practice 59
Two sodas, four candy bars, a packet of trail mix, and one bathroom break later, we'd made it. As far as I was concerned, it was just in time. After spending six hours in the car, my legs were in need of some serious stretching. I opened the door and swung my aching legs over the side of the passenger seat, letting the hot, sticky air hit me like a brick wall. While I'm thankful for the conveniences of the modern car, sometimes even thick, humid air, heavy with pollen and summer sweat, tastes a million times better than stale air conditioning1. I could feel my mood begin to improve.
"So, what do you think?"
I turned to look at my husband, John, as he got out of the car, his eyes sparkling as he awaited my response. It was our second trip to the apartment complex in the last three weeks, but this time, there was something different. Three weeks ago, we were simply visitors looking to sign a rental agreement, but now, we were home.
"I like it," I answered, hoping the enthusiasm in my voice would match the sparkle in his eyes. Encouraged2, he smiled and turned back to the car.
"We'd better start unloading before it gets too hot," he said.
"Too late. I'm already sweating." I pushed my bangs off my forehead, hoping to prevent my hair from looking absolutely disgusting. John must have noticed, because I caught him looking at me through the rear window.
"Libby, we have an entire car and trailer to unpack. You might as well forget about looking glamorous, at least for now. Besides, it's not like we're back in D.C. No C-Span cameras here!" He chuckled as he said it, but the sparkle had left his eyes3.
"Yeah, yeah," I answered, tossing my head as I laughed gamely. I didn't want to lose that sense of optimism—not at the beginning. I stretched my legs out in front of me, hoping it'd make getting out of the car a little bit easier. No such luck. My knees cracked as I stood up, and my calves were tight from the cramped quarters. I'd had no idea my legs would miss the high heels my feet had gladly given up. Suppressing a sigh4, I headed towards the trunk to help John unload our life.
We each grabbed an armful and headed towards our new apartment, just a few blocks away from the squat, industrial-looking building where John would start teaching. The fall semester was just a few short weeks away. I'd always thought that university buildings were lofty, ivy-covered brick and stone5—at least that's what I was used to. Things were certainly different in the Midwest. After transferring some bags from one arm to the other, I managed to get the front door key out of my pocket. By the time I got the door open, I thought John was going to topple right into the apartment.
There's something monumental about taking your first step into a new home. For John and me, it was our first home we had chosen together6. Walking through the door, the bags heavy on my arms, I felt like we were starting the first pages in the next chapter of our lives. When John had asked me to marry him and move to Ohio, I'd had no idea what the future held for us. Now, suddenly, I knew the future had begun. And, just as suddenly, I knew it could be anything we wanted it to be.
"Well, this is it," John said.
"Yep. This is it." Looking around the empty apartment, I realized its beige walls were simply a blank canvas waiting for us to fill it. I felt a thrill of real excitement as a slow grin spread across my face7. John saw it and started to relax. He leaned against the doorframe and followed me with his eyes as I traced the outline of the room. It would work. Excited to begin, I turned to John.
"Well, are you ready?" I asked.
"I think so. Are you?" he replied.
"Sure am. Let's go."
With that, we dropped our armfuls in the middle of the living room and headed back to the car for another load. We were home8.
