I've had a tangled time of the past few weeks: bad news from school, bad fall, bad living conditions.
On the walk back from the clinic after my stitch was removed, I happened to glance up, and this is what I saw. I was cringing at the thought of returning to that house, and the very thought that that place was "home" to me made me want to cry. It did make me cry, on a few occasions.
The blue sky beyond the branches, in this case, turned out to be finding a new place within a week of kicking into "very active" mode with the phone calls, viewing appointments, interviews and various other inconveniences of searching for accommodation.
Having spend the past few months dreading the thought of leaving my room in case it meant more of the questions and small talk and altogether wearying interaction, I'm now happy to be home, whether in my room or out of it. The view is beautiful. The people are friendly without being intrusive. The facilities are an added benefit, one I didn't think to pray for but still received.
There is no little yapping animal.
I am happy.