So this is how a new beginning feels like:
Empty.
I look outside through the tall windows of my new apartment overlooking Bell Street.
The numbness that has prevailed ever since my father's funeral is right here behind me. It clutches my head with its sharp talons and squeezes continiously so that I can't think. I can't recall. I can't cry.
The worst part begins when the guests who tend to frequent your house after the funeral start showing up less and less. With each day, silence grows around you, enveloping you in an abyss that echoes your loss. You try to shut your ears to that devious sound only to realize that it is in your head. It forces you to hear, forces you to accept.
At first, it only reminds you of your pain. That is the hardest part anyway. Then, it leaves your body, only to begin hovering over your head and benumb you. You live as if all has been a dream, that you haven't lost someone you loved, forever. This comes after long hours/days of either crying or making a fool of yourself, depending on your way of putting up with the pain. I guess this is also when you feel a crust is forming inside somewhere. When the crust falls, you have another scar that will always be there although it doesn't hurt any longer.
Somewhere out there a church bell rings.
My acceptance to Attica City University had arrived a week before my father died.
It is of no use to deny the fact that I was accepted to ACU through my dad's influence at first place. He taught a semester here and, having been deeply effected by the city's eccentric architectural texture, fervently proposed our relocating in this city upon his return. This was almost 5 years ago. Although his enthusiasm in the subject died gradually, I had to admit that even I was thrilled by the pictures he had taken.
During a laid back Sunday breakfast, he told me that the island community who first settled here in the 18th century were English protestants seeking religious liberty. Among them were great artists and architects who successfully shaped the Neo-Gothic and Neo-Baroque characteristics of the town. The community itself became extremely proud of the unique look and fabric of their home and passed their protective genes on to their successors. As the town grew into a small city, it ended up being a popular touristic destination and continued to serve as a home to many an artist. ACU, its renowned college, has been famous for its art programs ever since it was completed in the 1950's and, as far as I know, is currently the only art nouveau structure rising in the outskirts of the city, overlooking the ocean. Its curvy edges contrasting with sharp towers, statues placed on the ledges and alcoves, lacy decorations, symbols, depictions, even faces carved into the walls of various faculties, delicate windows some of which are adorned with exquisite grates create a chillingly beautiful, fairy tale atmosphere.
ACU is the Muses' hideout whenever they wander away from mount Helicon.
It has been a week since the classes started; two weeks since I moved in to this studio apartment with the help of my nanny. It has been three weeks since I learned my father left me a generous amount of money in the bank; a month since he was gone.
The cool afternoon air whiffs in through the window and the undulating curtains lick my face. Down below, the narrow side street where sunlight fiddles with the shadows, gets ready to succumb to darkness. Someone shouts. A street dog barks in reply. The lamp posts will be lit soon.
I should be excited, but I am not. I want to move on, but I can't.
So this is how a new beginning feels like:
Empty.
