My Own Place

The stifling Southern heat clung to everything, making the simple act of moving feel like a Herculean task. Your dad grumbled about the temperature, a familiar complaint that punctuated the humid air. Around you, the chaotic symphony of family members helping you move echoed through the new, empty rooms of your very own place.

Boxes were stacked, furniture was awkwardly maneuvered through doorways, and the air conditioning, blessedly, began to hum to life. After what felt like an eternity of sweat and effort, the last piece of furniture was in. Leaving the final touches to the men, you retreated to the kitchen, the cool air a stark contrast to the sweltering outdoors, ready to fix a quick meal for your exhausted but helpful family before they headed back home. The scent of cooking food filled the air, a small comfort in the midst of the big change.