A steady rain is falling on Jubilee Station as you make your way out to your front porch. Your neighbor Grace has promised to pick you up at 10:00 sharp for the monthly Welcome Breakfast taking place at the library.
Just before the top of the hour, you sit on the edge of the porch where it meets your front steps, sheltered from the rain. In your front garden, you notice that your tulips are starting to bloom in purples and yellows. The warm air smells of new mulch and magnolia blossoms. With your feet on the concrete stairs, and your hands resting on the smooth planks of the porch deck, you take a slow and measured breath.
“Great day to be a duck!” Grace calls to you as she crosses the street. She is wearing a bright yellow rain slicker and a wide-brimmed purple canvas hat. You realize that she matches your tulips.
You say, “It’s good to see you!”
“Are you hungry?” Grace asks.
“Yes,” you reply. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“You chose wisely,” she says, a twinkle in her eye. With that, the two of you set off for the main library, on the corner of College Avenue and Curtin Street, at the edge of downtown.
“Ah, here we are,” Grace says, holding open the heavy wooden door.
As you step into the lobby, you smell maple syrup, grilled onions, and the faint but reassuring scent of finely aged paper. A hand-painted banner overhead welcomes you.
“Grace!” someone calls from across the room.
“Joshua!” Grace calls out in reply. “Come meet our new neighbor.”
A short younger man with a gold ring in his right ear hurries over toward you. “I’m Joshua,” he says. “Thanks so much for coming!” Before you can reply, he turns to Grace and says, under his breath, “Our table setter-uppers overslept their alarm. It’s chaos here. Can you help?”
Grace looks at you, and you nod back at her. “We’re with you,” she tells him.
Twenty minutes later, the tables and chairs are set up. As the various groups and committees start laying out their signs and swag, you excuse yourself and step away to find a moment of quiet. Tucked away behind the circulation desk is a reading room, with comfortable chairs set in cozy alcoves, and a dense thicket of tropical plants growing under a skylight in the center. A majestic grandfather clock stands in one corner, quietly keeping time. You have the room to yourself. You stand in front of the plants, gripping the cool and smooth beech railing that surrounds them, and breathe deeply.
Back at the welcome breakfast, Mayor Ashley starts to give some opening remarks, and then realizes that no one is eating yet because she is speaking. “I’m cutting myself off,” she declares. “Get some pancakes!” She takes a small bow, to generous applause.
Grace comes over to you, with a full plate in hand. “I took some liberties,” she says. “Here’s a fork and a napkin. Joshua is over at the Festival Committee table, and… he’s expecting you.”
You narrow your eyes and try to scowl at Grace, but she just shrugs and smiles, and you can only smile in return. She melts back into the crowd, and you have a moment to savor your buttermilk pancakes and roasted Yukon gold potatoes with onions. The amber maple syrup has migrated over into the potatoes, the sweetness mingling happily with the salt of the potato skins. You make quick work of your plate.
“Hellooo!” Joshua calls out to you. “Festival Committee! Let’s do this.” You hang your head in mock resignation, and let yourself be summoned to the signup form. After swearing your loyalty to the committee, you notice a sign for the Jubilee Station jigsaw puzzle exchange, and you volunteer for that as well. Then, Mayor Ashley bumps into you in the crowd.
“How do you feel about concerts?” she asks.
“I’m… in favor of them?” you say.
“Good answer,” she says, putting a clipboard in front of your nose. “The Concert Club picks one show each month to go see as a group in the City. We’re going next weekend, actually. You should come!”
You write your contact details on the next open line. “Awesome,” she says. “Later today, you’ll get a link to a playlist – we always send out the expected setlist about a week before the show. That way, even if you don’t know the band very well, you have time to get familiar.”
The rest of the breakfast, and the rest of your day, is a blur. You and Grace make it back to the neighborhood in time for you to take a long nap, your bedroom window open to the sounds of the breezy rain. By nightfall, the skies have cleared, and the weather has turned windy and colder. The bright light of the full moon gives your new curtains a soft backlight, as you climb back in bed for the night. You stretch out under your warm down comforter, your window still open to the night chill, and you pull the covers over your head for a moment as you take a slow and deep breath.
Your phone chimes just before you switch it off for the night. You have received a text from a new number, with your playlist for the concert next weekend.