“This is adorable!” I exclaimed, nearly clasping my hands to a cheek. I could barely contain herself. “What a cute little neighborhood!”
Anna laughed and nodded approvingly. “Thank you. They are charming when you first see them. Some don’t take too kindly to living in cramped quarters, but for one person and only the things you need, you find a smaller home is a simpler home. I opted to stay in one myself.” She leaned closer to me and put her hand up to block her voice from traveling. “Had to put some space between the family and me, you know? It was getting a little claustrophobic.”
We both shared a laugh, and I expressed my understanding.
We walked down the row to the last house available with a lilac-colored roof, and the number 20 hammered into cast iron on the pale-purple door. Anna took out a set of keys and flipped through until she saw one with a lilac painted top and 20 written on it. She unlocked the door and swung it open, inviting me to enter first.
The inside was well organized. Everything was laid out and planned so meticulously that every single inch of the house was used for storage, utility, or otherwise. I set my bags down next to the door under the coat rack on the wall and stepped fully inside. The maple floor was bright and light to walk on. The kitchen was only a few countertops wide with a double stovetop and a little oven under it. Part of the counters acted as a bar with two stools under it for dining.
Beyond the kitchen was a sitting area where the couch's seats folded up for additional storage within it. A TV was anchored to the wall across from the sitting area with a small stand for extra storage below it. The front part of the house had a cathedral ceiling, and the back was split into two levels. The downstairs was the bathroom, and upstairs was a balcony-style bedroom.
Light from the windows and skylights flooded the entire house, yet it was surprisingly cool from the trees that shaded the area. I had never seen such a rainbow of birds—the most colorful thing I ever saw in the city was a particularly smart-looking pigeon. Starchy white sheets fitted the double bed along with a puffy down comforter. It was so inviting I almost leaped into it.
“What do you think?” Anna asked as she went through and checked all the drawers and doors for functionality. “These units, 15-20, were only built this year, so they are brand-spankin' new. We had no idea this program would be so successful, so we had to splurge for five more of these tiny homes.”
I was almost speechless. This entire house was about the size of my bedroom back in New York that my family had stuffed full of decorations, clothes, furniture, and just so much crap over the years. It made my head feel cluttered every time I saw it, but I didn’t consciously think about it until that moment. That place felt so clean and neat and free. I had no idea that I needed so little.
“It’s perfect!” I yelled over to my new friend, almost breathy with pride and excitement and eagerness. “Thank you so much!”
“Don’t mention it one bit. So, you only have two suitcases, huh?” Anna tapped the pot of the moon glow plant I had been nurturing for five years with little results. “Well, and these scraggly little things. This is it? Do you need anything else? Work starts in the morning bright and early, so it only leaves you a little bit of time to get your bearings and coordinate yourself.” Anna motioned to my outfit. “To be honest, you seem like you might get a little bit lost, speaking of ‘coordinate.’”
I tried to stutter some quickly formed excuse, but Anna knew I wasn’t prepared.
“You wait right here and start unpackin’. I will be right back.” With that, Anna took off, and I was left to my own devices.
I took my two suitcases and unpacked them in a matter of minutes. All of my clothing fit into two drawers under the stairs. And I only had the shoes on my feet—some cloth sneakers with logos all over them. My plants fit on the windowsill upstairs, where they would receive a wash of afternoon sun. After a little bit, as I was just starting to feel comfortable and at home, Anna returned with her arms full.
“Here you go, girly—just what you need!” She flung herself through the door and plopped a pile of folded clothing onto the coffee table—a few pairs of jeans, graphic T-shirts, and boots. There was also a scrunchie in the mix that matched the one keeping Anna’s hair out of her eyes, save for a few loose baby bangs that wouldn’t be tamed.
I was taken aback by the kindness and generosity, and Anna wouldn’t take any of my thanks or offers of payment.
"No problem, they were old anyway, and yearning for a new home. I would roll the jeans up though, for safety. I'm a bit taller than you."
"Of course," I replied, never having been so excited over hand me down work clothes in my life.
The two of us spent the rest of the afternoon together and became quick friends. Despite our “city mouse and country mouse” feelings, we were like two grapes from the same bunch. Anna filled me in on all the farm happenings. Later in the afternoon, just as the sun was dipping below the tree line and the sky was the color of slate, she gave me my first assignment for the morning, which made me smile from ear to ear.
In the morning, I would learn to groom the horses.
4
Lillian
Days on the farm bled into one another in the most wonderful of ways. Yes, my first day was difficult. I learned how to brush and bathe horses, and I learned how to clean their hooves of packed dirt and how to care for their mane and tail. I learned how to give them water and food, and I especially loved the scent of their molasses oats. Finally, at the end of the day, I got to clean out their stalls. This was easily the dirtiest thing I had done in all my life, well, up until that point.
I was used to being surrounded by proverbial crap, but never in all my days could I have imagined being surrounded by mountains of literal crap. While my muscles were burning and my joints were aching by the time I fell into bed, something in me still felt right. I earned the rest at night; it made me feel accomplished. I deserved to sleep because, for once in my life, I was actually tired. Exhausted. Spent.
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about how I could feel the prickle of a slight sunburn across my shoulders. I remembered how wonderful a shower had felt, and the crisp cool water against my sweaty skin was the icing on the cake as it washed all the dirt of the day down the drain. All of my problems were washed away, too. Better yet, no one from my family, not my parents or my brother, had texted or called me. My cellphone stayed in my house, and my mind was free from the social clutter that it brought.
Each day passed with the same ease as the last. For the first week, I was given an assignment. The first day was horse work. I had that down pat. The second day was housework. I was invited in by Mrs. Frey and given a more thorough tour of the house. The first floor was for living. There was the beautiful and rustic kitchen I had seen during my initial walkthrough, which bled into a cozy yet elegant dining room that was almost entirely filled with a custom dining table that could easily fit fifty people. The dining room windows overlooked the crops. Mrs. Frey remarked on how she enjoyed summer dinners in the late evening when the fields would twinkle with fireflies.
There was a sitting room that was triumphed by a massive stone fireplace that had been the original when the home was first built. On the chimney that led up to the second floor was a massive moose skull and antlers that spread out like branches of a tree. A smoking parlor hung off the back of the house, but Mrs. Frey assured me that no smoking was allowed out here. Rosemary Farm was a place to quit harmful habits. It was instead converted twenty years ago into a solarium filled with houseplants that she tenderly maintained when not cooking for an army.