Ruth Writes

She settles on her couch with her blanket, some popcorn and her laptop propped on some books on her coffee table. Every light in the small apartment is off and all of the curtains are closed. She’s wrapped up in her new, cosy space, safe from the outside world inside her new sanctuary. The only light in the room emanates from the laptop screen and a small lamp she has plugged in beside her on the newly purchased side table.

She’s never owned a side table before. She’s never owned a coffee table before. Or a couch. So much of what she now owns, she’s never owned before. Everything inside of this new apartment is all hers. She owns all of it. She can’t quite believe it and when she thinks about it too much, she gets all giddy inside and a stupidly large grin grows on her face until her cheeks hurt and she has to squeal aloud to calm herself.

Today had been a long day of moving boxes and furniture and getting kickstarted on making her new apartment a home, putting her own stamp on the place. She’s sleepy now and looking forward to watching a movie with her popcorn she just popped in her microwave before slinking off to bed or deciding to cuddle up on her couch. She can do whatever she wants because it’s not going to affect anyone but herself and the four walls around her.

Just as she gets comfy and reaches out a hand to hit play on her movie, the lightbulb in the lamp pops loudly and she’s plunged into darkness. She squeaks and jumps at the loud sound and the abrupt dark. With a racing heart, she turns her phone’s torch on and contemplates calling someone. She’s never changed a lightbulb before.

She’s bought one, though. There are five spares sitting in her newly appointed replacements drawer in the kitchen. She makes her way gingerly to the kitchen and opens the drawer to fetch the fresh lightbulb. She tiptoes back before stopping and laughing at herself as she realises there’s no one to wake up. She can walk normally.

She makes sure the switch at the socket is off and unplugs the lamp before unscrewing the old bulb. It comes out easier than she expected, and she glows, feeling a little proud of herself. She twists in the new bulb, double checks it’s on tight enough and then stretches back to plug it in and switch it on. It turns on without a problem, sending a small burst of light into the dark.

She sits back on the couch, feeling that giddiness she’s been feeling on and off all day bubbling again. She did it. She changed the lightbulb all by herself. She types a quick message to her parents. Her dad sends a simple good job, and her mam tells her how brilliant she is. She glows again. She settles back on her couch. She can do this.