I pinch my lips together, staring out over the meadows, wishing things were as simple as they were when I was a kid running through those fields.
“I don’t think I’ve been happy in years.” I lick my lips. “Actually, that’s not entirely true.” My gaze shifts to hers, skating over her clear skin, the smattering of freckles across her nose, her lips shining from the remnants of the beer. “Today made me happy.” I allow my statement to linger in the air for a moment before turning to look out over the property once more. “I’m not sure if it’s because of the house, or the memories, or getting to know you better, but I loved every second of today.”
“Even when you were just a few millimeters away from stapling your hand to the drywall and needing me to rush you to the nearest hospital?” She arches a thin brow.
“Yes.” I chuckle. “Even when I nearly stapled my hand to the drywall.” I hold up my now-bandaged pinky finger. “Even if I had, I wouldn’t trade today for anything. I felt…useful.”
“And you don’t feel useful at your job?”
“More like a puppet.” The words leave me before I have a chance to consider them. “I got into this field because I loved seeing a project go from a concept, onto paper, then become an actual building, whether it be a stadium, or skyscraper, or someone’s home. Now my days are spent schmoozing clients so they’ll keep using our firm instead of taking their business to a younger one that promises to do the job quicker and cheaper. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a glorified salesman who knows a thing or two about designing buildings. Not someone who spent years studying what materials can be used in a highrise in San Francisco to prevent it from tumbling down during the next big earthquake.”
She seems to consider my words for a moment. I have no idea what came over me, why I felt the need to be so forthcoming. But I can complain all I want. I’ll never walk away from the firm, regardless of how unhappy I am. I can’t, not when hundreds of employees count on me so they can provide for their families.
“Do you want to know what prompted me to start my up-cycling business?” she asks.
“What’s that?”
“After moving to Atlanta, I was in a pretty dark place, wondering if I’d made a mistake in leaving the only family I had. I was depressed, struggling to make ends meet. I had debilitating anxiety that sometimes made it hard to leave my apartment to work my minimum wage job. So my roommate suggested I go to a support group at a local church for people who…” She pauses, giving her next words careful consideration. “Well, for people who were going through what I was.
“It was difficult at first. I was raised to believe the only help and guidance I needed should come from the church and God. But after a while, I realized sometimes help can be found in other places. Can be found in other people who empathize. And it was at one of these meetings that another woman mentioned finding one thing in life that gave you joy and spending a few minutes of your day doing that. Didn’t matter if it was underwater basketweaving. It was important to have one bright spot in your day so you didn’t feel weighed down.
“On my way home from work that night, I noticed a beat-up old trunk on the side of the road with a sign that said free. So I loaded it into the back of my car and brought it to my apartment. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, but the next day, instead of buying groceries with my last twenty dollars, I went to the hardware store and got some supplies. During the next support group meeting, I spoke about finally finding something that gave me joy and how it changed my outlook. Even showed a photo of my project to the group. Another member fell in love and offered me a hundred bucks on the spot for the old trunk that was now a funky little coffee table.”
“That’s incredible.” I smile down at her. I don’t know her whole story quite yet, but with just the bits and pieces she’s given me, I know Londyn is a strong, tenacious woman.