There are stars, so many stars. We can see them from the windows. It’s something we’d noticed long ago, coming out here late at night with flashlights trying to see what progress had been done on the house. And now, inside, they are still there. Such a small thing; such a large and beautiful sky.

I am wondering why I thought stairs were a good idea. We are both sore and exhausted. Granted the movers did most of it – lugging every box and stick of furniture into their truck and then carrying all the heavy stuff up the stairs or wherever it went. But still, we each had our own cars full of things too fragile or unpacked for the movers to carry. Computers. The antique glass lamp. Baskets of laundry.

We came last night – filled cars with all of the clothes from our closets, and boxes of food from the pantry and brought them over. Just a few little things to give the house our stamp – make it more ours.

The cats mill about in confusion. They spent the day in the bedroom at the old house, locked behind a door but still able to hear the noises of the move. They cried nonstop on the drive over when we went to fetch them this evening, and all but two are still huddled inside cat trees and carriers and bathroom cabinets still, unsure of this new place to which they have been brought but still needing constant reassurance that we, at least, are here, and there is something good and familiar.

We have so little furniture. This house is so big and empty. The stairwell echos. There are new and different noises.

There are birds in the neighbors’ trees, and the sound of the wind through the leaves is soft.

And there are stars.