26 February 2015
I’m sitting in my little attic room with its happy yellow paint and the chimney in the middle. I’ve spent hours upon hours up here, practicing my violin, frantically typing medical reports dictated by doctors who do not know how to enunciate, sewing clothes and writing a novel. I’ve lain awake at night listening to the rain drops falling on the roof above or feeling Dad shake the rafters with his snoring in the room below. I love this little room, and I will miss it. The house is sold.