Emery’s home was tucked amidst the trees, towards the back of her lot. She wanted it as close to the path to Cinnamon Crest Falls as possible – the added privacy was a bonus.
She’d envisioned something similar to a treehouse, but maybe that was childish of her. Emery had to admit her father’s plans were more practical. To his credit, he did a great job of using the treehouse idea for inspiration. The first floor was smaller than the second – like a tree trunk holding up its branches. Ivy-covered columns stood guard around the entrance, supporting the large, wrap-around deck above. For now, the entryway was empty except for a spiral staircase. The flooring hadn’t been finished in time, but Emery didn’t mind; she’d be spending most of her time outdoors or upstairs.
The stairs lead to an open, airy space for the kitchen, dining and office areas. It was very simple, but she knew she could make it work. It was much more spacious than the cabin her mother had started in – and Emery’s house had a separate bedroom from the start. She was excited to have so much space to herself. And it was so quiet!
Emery made her bed and unpacked the last of her clothes. She planned to start her garden the following morning – for now, she wanted to enjoy her private peace and quiet. No children running around! No teenagers making out! She knew she’d probably get lonely sometimes and miss when she could walk through any door and have a conversation with someone or find someone to go to the Falls on a whim. But for now, she was completely content. Solace in solitude, indeed.
Emery woke up early the next morning feeling the most well-rested she’d ever been. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up on her own rather than from someone making noise or an alarm to make sure she got up to do her chores. It was refreshing to wake up slowly and notice the gentleness of the morning sunlight making its way through the window. She could get used to this!
She stretched and lazily made her way into the kitchen for some cereal before getting dressed into her workout gear. It was going to be a long day out in the garden, but at least the weather was supposed to be good. Plus, Bridget had been kind enough to help Emery set up a sprinkler system next to the house, which was sure to make things easier.
Emery was in the yard all day digging, planting and weeding, but she was happy with how it turned out. She managed to plant everything her mom had sent with her – some basics for the kitchen like lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, and garlic, as well as some fruit trees. She looked around to admire her work before heading inside for a much-needed shower. As she walked up the stairs, she wondered if she’d planted too much… She wasn’t going to have help like in her mother’s garden. Emery tried to push the thought from her mind. The sprinkler would help, and if planting it all was a mistake, there was nothing she could do about it now.
After her shower she stayed in just her towel while she put some water to boil and dumped a box of macaroni into the pot. It was nearly done when she returned to the kitchen in her pajamas. Emery closed her eyes and smiled to herself. All she could hear was the water bubbling and some crickets chirping outside. She could definitely get used to this.
After dinner she left her bowl in the sink and read through the last chapter she wrote for the novel she was working on. She made a few small tweaks, but otherwise she didn’t feel very motivated or inspired to work on it more that night. ‘I’m probably more tired than I realize,’ she thought, and decided to go to bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Her plants were growing beautifully and didn’t need much help over the next couple weeks, so Emery was able to enjoy the spring weather. She spent most of her days painting out on the deck. One of her favorite pieces was a reimagining of the view from her spot at the easel: a sun-kissed mountainside surrounded in greenery. She felt at home in her new place, now that she’d settled in. She was more relaxed, and it showed in her art and writing, creating some of her best work to date.
Emery enjoyed the quiet evenings to herself, trying out new recipes and working on her novel. She thought of her family often, but she didn’t feel lonely. She called home every few days to chat with everyone and promised to have Ryker and Mason over for a visit soon. (She just hoped they wouldn’t be too bored!) Altman offered to have regular fishing ‘dates’ like when she was a kid, one morning a week. Similarly, Matthew asked if she’d be interested in going to the Falls with him on the occasional weeknight. Emery looked forward to both. She was glad that her new living arrangement was working out. She felt much more comfortable in her own company, in her own space, with scheduled family time rather than constant contact and proximity.
Once or twice a day, she’d venture out into the garden and tend to the plants. It was a lot to manage but wasn’t as challenging as she’d feared. Having kids around definitely made things more difficult back at her parents’ place. But at Emery’s, the garden was peaceful and flourishing.
Everything was going well and Emery easily found time for everything she wanted to do. Her garden was great, her art was great, she’d made more progress on her novel in her first couple months in her new home than she had in her last couple years at her parents’ place… but something felt like it was missing.
Maybe what was missing was a sense of progress? Back at her parents’, everything had always felt rushed and there was always something more to do. Did the lack of pressure take away from her sense of accomplishment? She sold some of her art pieces online and connected with a publisher to plan for her novel’s release. It didn’t solve the problem, but it felt awesome. Maybe she was on the right track. Maybe she needed a sense of advancement.
Emery’s concern and confusion slowly ate at her throughout her day and she started to notice herself being more critical of her art and writing as she worked. At the same time, she knew she should be proud of herself – objectively, she was doing an excellent job expressing her creativity and earning good income. From what she understood, it was difficult for a lot of people to make money doing what she was doing, but it seemed to come naturally to her. Maybe that’s what was missing? Maybe she wasn’t feeling challenged enough?
She decided to turn to the internet for help. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, so she tried to find stories from other artists who had been in a similar position. Advice on self-care and finding your muse were the main themes, which didn’t feel very helpful. She had no shortage of inspiration and felt she had a pretty healthy and balanced lifestyle. Maybe she needed more friends? She was on good terms with Rukiya again, but they weren’t as close as before. If she was honest with herself, Emery wasn’t completely over Rukiya, either. She was hesitant to reach out. But there weren’t any other options in Appaloosa Plains at the moment.
After discussing it with her mom, Emery thought maybe it was time for an adventure. Bridget encouraged her to see what she might learn if she spent more time in Bridgeport’s art community or if she went to an art school somewhere. Sometimes moms knew best – it sounded like a great idea! She’d be able to meet people, she’d get to advance her technique, and she’d have something to look forward to for the rest of the gardening season to keep her spirits up.
Bridgeport’s art scene didn’t really appeal to Emery, so she started looking into art schools. Sim City had one that sounded amazing, but she worried that a city that size would be too overwhelming for her. After browsing a dozen art school websites, she found an institute in Champs Les Sims, France that instantly felt right. A quick search informed her that Champs Les Sims was a cute small town near the country’s capital. They had an impressive museum and were known for their exquisite nectars. The institute was no École des beaux arts, but Emery had little desire to live in the capital. Besides, this was supposed to be a fun adventure, not a tooth-and-nail fight to get into the most prestigious art school in France. The École nationale supérieure d’art des Champs Les Sims (ENSA Champs) was still a highly respected place to study. Emery applied to the school and began browsing local attractions. She had a good feeling about this!
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