Page 3 of Show Me How to Heal
A new town, a new country — hell, a whole new fuckingcontinent.
I still couldn’t believe I was actually doing this, but here I was, driving into the town I’d just bought a cabin in — thus increasing the population to seven thousand two hundred thirty-four— without ever having seen said cabin in person and in a brand-new car I’d gotten from the dealership yesterday with two suitcases in the trunk that held everything I’d considered important enough to take with me.
If I thought about it, it was kind of sad that my whole life fit into those two suitcases. The rest of my stuff, everything I hadn’t deemed important enough, was in storage. If it weren’t for my brother, I would have sold or donated it all, but he’d insisted I keep all my stuff for at least a year. Until things had cooled down and I’dcome to my senses.
For him, coming to my senses meant I sold the house I’d just bought and moved back home. Spoiler alert: I might not know what was going to happen, but I wouldn’tevermove back.
The whole reason to uproot my life and move half across the globe was toget away,as far as possible.
When the town came into view, I was stunned. It was beautiful. The sun up high in the azure blue sky; a mountain in the background; green, lush fields; and a lake to the left… the town looked like the perfect motif for a postcard.
I couldn’t believe this was my new home.
I was utterly tempted to park my car on the side of the road, get out, and snap a few pictures I could post to our family chat, telling them to suck it becausethiswas my new hometown and it was fucking beautiful — not some kind of run-down town with less inhabitants than my old football team.Soccer, I reminded myself. They called it soccer in the US. Who the fuck knew why.
But I didn’t stop; I kept driving, letting the navigation app on my smartphone lead the way to what was going to be my new home.
When I reached the first houses, I couldn’t help but think it was just like in the movies. A middle-aged man mowing his front lawn. His neighbor washing his car, wearing only cargo shorts and proudly showing off his beer belly. One house looked exactly like the other — or at least very similar.
White or cream-colored houses with the occasional light blue or pink one in between.
Focusing on the road was hard because I was so busy staring out the window, trying to take everything in at once. I wanted to drive slower, but I didn’t want to be pulled over on the first day of officially living here.
There were a lot of cars.
Bigcars.
Like, seriously.
So many pickups.
They made me and my new little BMW feel kind of small, though it wasn’t. I’d driven a similar model back home in Germany, and while my car hadn’t been as big or shiny as some of my teammates’ cars, it hadn’t been particularly small.
The town center looked like it was straight out of some movie set, too. A diner, a pizza place, a bar, a bank. One building next to the other with cute display windows. A hardware store, two hairdressers, and a bookstore.
Man, I wished I could slow down and explore this town so badly, but I had a meeting with the realtor scheduled and I didn’t want to be late. Well… I didn’t want to belaterthan I already was. I supposed I should have known driving on a whole freaking new continent would be challenging, but I hadn’t even thought about that. So, when my navigation app had told me it would take me an hour and a half to get here — to Juniper Creek — I didn’t think to maybe start driving an hour earlier, just to be safe.
I should have.
Because I was thirty minutes late. The realtor was waiting for me, and I was leaving a very bad first impression. Or second impression… or was it a third impression?
I couldn’t remember. What Ididknow was that he seemed a little bit put off by the whole process of selling me the house through my lawyer. I couldn’t fault him for that. If I’d been in his place, I’d have been cautious, too. After all, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to have someone buy a house without ever having seen it in person before.
I’d obviously wanted to come see it for myself, but my doctors had shut that idea down rather quickly.
I drove through the town, exiting on the other side, inching closer to the place I’d be calling home from now on.
The private road leading to my house instantly made me regret my decision to buy my BMW and not some kind of unnecessarily huge truck like everyone else seemed to be driving. Damn, the road was more potholes than actual road. My teeth clattered, my bones rattled, and when I finally — fuckingfinally— parked my car next to a bright red pickup truck, I felt like I’d been put through the wringer.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the dull pain in my left leg before opening my eyes again and exiting the car. The first thing I noticed was the air. I could literallytasteit. Fresh, clean. Inhaling only enhanced it, and a feeling of calm settled over me as I looked around, taking in the breathtaking surroundings.
Yeah, this was definitely another perfect motif for a postcard. A photographer would make a killing doing shoots here.
And then I focused on the most important thing – my cabin nestled right at the foot of the mountain, the dark pine forest looming over my fucking ginormous cabin. To the left of my cabin was a full-grown meadow leading to a lake. I was tempted to call it my lawn, but the grass had to be at least knee high and there were flowers and other plants growing in the middle of it, so I wasn’t sure it qualified as a lawn.
Quick question: Were there any venomous snakes in Colorado?
I eyed the overgrown grass a little more nervously. I’d have to check as soon as I was safely inside. And what about bears? Bears were a thing in the US. And mountain lions. Fuck, I really needed to read up on the fauna here.
