Your Happy, I’m Happy
Moments passed, and we finally arrived at our house. It's small and all white except the fiery-orange roof. There is a stone path in the middle of the lawn that leads you to the steps where bright flowers will greet you. In front of the house, there is an immense delay shaped window that gleams in the sunlight. Gosh, it'll be a sight to see from the inside.
"Daybreak! Quit staring into space and help me with these bags," Of all the nicknames my mom has for me, her favorite is Daybreak.
We got as many boxes and bags as we could hold before making our way towards the house. I felt eagerness coursing through my veins as we entered. We stepped inside a short hallway that has an opening on each wall.
Inside one entrance was the kitchen. The floors are dark brown, hardwood. There's a long L-shaped counter with cabinets above and below. There's a dishwasher established next to the shimmering sink. The microwave hovers over the stove and oven. In the middle stands a massive island with a persian brown countertop. This can't be real. I'm dreaming! We're flat broke! We can't afford a house like this! or can we?
On the wall, I stood next to perches a considerable length silver refrigerator. Right next to that settles a commodious pantry. The white sliding doors stood tall and slid open effortlessly. I was welcomed by a short walkway, surrounded by cabinets and shelves.
Everything's new to me. At the apartment, we only had a little shove and oven, and a cheap microwave, and a refrigerator. At the apartment, we only had one room where everything was together. If you look to your left, you're staring into the kitchen; if you look to your right, you're staring into the living room. At the apartment, we didn't have an upstairs. At the apartment, we didn't have remarkable things like a dishwasher, or a pantry, or an island, or space, or privacy.
"Are you sure this is the right house?" I asked as I gave my arm a pinch to make sure I'm not daydreaming
"Yup," she popped the p, "This is the right house"
I watched as her eyes searched the rooms every corner. They filled with admiration. She always complained about how the kitchen at the apartment was too compact, but now she has all the space she needs.
"How did y-," she cut me off
"The house is affordable, don't worry," she jammed her hands inside her jean pockets. I could tell she didn't want to carry on this conversation because she tried to change the subject.
"Let's check out the living room."
With that, she spun around on her heels and moseyed to the living room. None of this makes sense. Why is a wealthy neighborhood like this selling houses for a low-price? Why is my mom ignoring this topic? Should I be grateful and stop worrying?
I pushed my questions to the side and ignored their echoing voices in my head. I made my way to the living room to find my mom examining the room just as she did the kitchen. The room is large and dull. The only exhilaration the room has is the delay shaped window. It brings it to life. The sunlight peers through the glass and brightens it up.
"If we painted the walls bright blue, it would make the room more compelling," I suggested
"Yes, I can put my paintings right here," she pointed to the wall in front of us, "And I can put my plants right there to give the room life," she went around explaining where she'll put everything and how beautiful the room will look.
"It'll be a forest wonderland," her eyes sparkled, and I knew she already fell in love with the house. I see joy here for her, and she does too. That's all I ever wanted for her, to have happiness and faith. If she's happy, I'm happy.