There was a reason for my long absence. There always is, of course, but this time the reason was rather special. I’d been offered a new home. A fully wheelchair adapted home. And so I rode this roller coaster of getting all my stuff packed, getting a new home ready to move into, and if that alone wasn’t enough, the pandemic hit, making everything just that bit more complicated.
I’m not complaining though. Because I left my tiny apartment on the fourth story of an old apartment building with malfunctioning lift and am now living in the house of my dreams. A much newer, roomy apartment on the ground floor. I even have a small garden.
I have easy access to my bathroom, and all the rooms in the house are spacious enough that I can move around in them with ease. Sure, there’s still things that need to be done, but those can wait for a little while. I’m not going anywhere.
Despite, or maybe rather because of the pandemic, I had lots of help from my friends getting my new home ready. And, much to my surprise and great delight, underneath layers and layers of wallpaper we found someone had painted my name (some 30 years ago!) on the wall in the living room.
Sure looks like this apartment had always been meant for me.