Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Janet Finch.

Now that I am finished with my suitcase projects and have been able to discover what I needed to find, I find myself now at a loss. I'm sure that I will find something else to work on. My inspiration is everywhere and as mother used to say, I can think for myself.

I glance over at Paul and his hands as they work on his pride and joy. He says that I'm too important to him to call me anything more than Astrid which I think means more to me than any shallow, superficial pet name. He works so hard and yet he has yet to get any huge part of his work out there. But he's an artist. When the time comes, the world will see his work.

I sit down on a cheap, second hand stool we brought for eleven bucks. It creaks horribly when you first sit down but if you don't move too much,, it keeps quite. Paul always jokes that sometimes something has to break the silence.

I prefer the quite. Paul and I have always had a special understanding of one another. We have a language of our own of non-verbal queues and body quirks that down need any explanation. But when we do talk, we are able to speak the truth and have that heart to heart moment. Although I still find that expression cheesy and cliché.

Now that I have been released from my mother, I have felt the loving healing I think she meant to give. In the one act, I was more than just free. I was able to forgive and to love her back after years of trying to figure out why she did the things she did.

I guess sometimes I still wish that things could have been different and that we were still together, sitting on the roof to feel the wind. Yet I know that this journey has happened for a reason and I regret nothing. I am who am because of what happened and dwelling on the past only adds hurt and anguish to lives.

As I stare on the window of the loft, I feel to strong and warm arms wrap around my waist. I am surrounded by my anchor; the one who still cared after I had ignored him and shunned him. I can't say the what I feel for him is love for that concept is also a cliché to me. What I feel for him is so much more and yet I don't need him to be happy or for him to complete me. It's just refreshing for him to be there.

The season of change is in the air. My past lives have come to a close. I have moved onward to this new life; one where I understand who I am but I can never take for granted for who I was.