Lunar Enchantment

Moonlit Beginnings

My parents drove us to the airport in relative silence that Saturday morning. We weren't in the best of moods. They were heading off on a two year dig somewhere overseas. Somewhere they deemed not appropriate for a teenage girl to join them.

My flight to my grandmothers house took off from the airport two hours before the first leg of theirs. 

"It won't be so bad," mom said, squeezing me tight. "Your grandmother has been looking forward to this."

"I don't understand why I can't just go."

"We wish you could, Aurora, but two years on a dig sight in the middle of Egypt is not appropriate for a 16-year-old girl. You'll fall so far behind in school. We'll come and visit you."

"I love you, guys."

"We love you too, honey," dad said, wrapping all three of us in a huge hug.

"Be happy when you see grandma. Okay?" mom asked as I got in line to board the flight.

"I will," I said, faking a smile.

Silverwood was not my most favorite town. It was small and all of my friends were back home.

The flight lasted 3 hours. We descended into a misty covered little airport in the middle of nowhere. 

Grandma stood in the little terminal waving as I stepped off the plane. It wasn't as big as the commercial airliners, but it was able to fit a few dozen people.

"Rory!" she called as we all entered the Silverwood terminal.

"Hi, grams," I said as she ran to me.

"It is so good to see you! You ready to go home?"

Home. 

"I sure am."

I followed her to her car and tried my best to look happy. 

Stepping out of the car, I sighed heavily as a mix of familiarity and nostalgia washed over me. Silverwood unfolded before my eyes, bathed in the gentle light of a weekend morning. The town's quaint charm and vintage shops evoked memories of a time long ago, a place I hadn't visited in years. My heart felt heavy, leaving behind friends and the life I cherished, but my parents' overseas work assignment for the next two years had led us here once again.

"Let's get snacks and stuff?"

"That sounds great. Does this place still have Moon Pies?"

Grandma let out a loud laugh. "Of course."

Main Street, adorned with vintage shops and bustling cafes, bustled with activity. Kids zipped by on bicycles, and the air was filled with laughter and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. My grandmother, Evelyn, stood beside me, her face illuminated by a blend of weariness and curiosity.

"Welcome back to Silverwood, dear," she murmured, her voice carrying a gentle warmth.

I offered a soft smile, captivated by the small-town charm that enveloped us. "It's still so beautiful here, Grams."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she nodded slowly, as if savoring the moment. "There's a certain magic to this place, Aurora. You'll come to appreciate it."

We popped in and out of the various shops getting all kinds of foods and trinkets.

"You have everything you want?"

I nodded my head while munching on a Moon Pie.

The Jeep Wrangler that had carried us navigated the winding streets, each corner revealing a new facet of the town's personality. 

Nestled amidst the embrace of towering trees, the mansion stood as a majestic sentinel of history, an embodiment of elegance that spoke of a bygone era. Its age-worn stone façade bore witness to the passage of time, softened by tendrils of ivy that embraced the walls with a touch of nature's artistry. The windows, crowned with intricate wrought ironwork, peered out like watchful sentinels, casting patterns of light and shadow that danced upon the surface. The entrance, flanked by ornate columns, greeted visitors with an air of regal welcome, as if inviting them to step into a realm where stories of generations echoed in each creak of the floorboards. Within, a symphony of opulence unfolded—a grand staircase, its banisters a masterpiece of craftsmanship; high ceilings adorned with intricate molding that seemed to reach for the heavens; and sprawling rooms that whispered tales of gatherings and whispered conversations. Sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns that painted the floors in vibrant hues. Antique furnishings stood as guardians of time, each piece carrying with it a tale of a life once lived. The mansion exhaled an air of dignified nostalgia, a sanctuary where the past and present intertwined, reminding all who entered that they were part of a continuum of history, bound to a legacy that stretched far beyond the walls.

"Same room?" I asked.

"Of course, my dear."

My bedroom was never changed. The walls, painted in soothing shades of lavender and cream, bathed the room in a dreamy, ethereal glow. Moon and star paintings graced the ceiling, creating the illusion of a celestial canopy watching over me as I drift into sleep. A generously sized window, draped in flowing curtains, offers a view of the tranquil streets below, inviting the warm sunlight to filter in during the day.

An heirloom vanity, passed down through generations, stood against one wall, adorned with delicate trinkets and a mirror that seems to hold the whispers of time. My cozy reading nook nestled near the window, featuring a plush armchair adorned with a quilted throw, a small bookshelf brimming with worlds waiting to be explored, and a dainty side table topped with a crystal lamp that casts a soft, warm glow over the pages of my favorite books.

My bed, an ornate iron frame with intricate scrollwork, was positioned against another wall, dressed in layers of moonlit blue linens. Pillows of various sizes create a comforting nest for daydreaming and nighttime slumber. A quilt, adorned with patterns reminiscent of constellations, is lovingly draped at the foot of the bed.

My room was adorned with personal mementos—a cherished photograph of my parents, a delicate porcelain jewelry box gifted by my grandmother, and an arrangement of pressed flowers, each bloom holding memories of special moments. The air carries a subtle blend of lavender and vanilla, wafting from a decorative diffuser on my dresser.

My bedroom felt like a sanctuary where the past and present come together, a space where my dreams are nurtured, and where the enchantment of Silverwood seems to seep in through every corner, cocooning me in comfort and endless possibilities.

I guess it's not so bad here.

The following morning, after a cozy night's sleep, the sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm embrace across my room. With a mix of anticipation and curiosity, I bounded down the stairs to find my grandmother preparing breakfast in the kitchen. The scent of freshly baked muffins and brewing coffee mingled in the air, wrapping around me like a comforting hug.

"Good morning, Rory," she greeted with a smile, handing me a plate filled with golden muffins.

"Morning, Grams," I replied, taking a seat at the breakfast nook.

As I savored the first bite of the muffin, its flavors melting in my mouth, I couldn't help but think of those many summers spent here. 

"After breakfast, we'll head to the high school to get you enrolled, dear. I think you'll find that Silverwood has its own special charm."

I let out a groan, starting at a new school in the middle of the year. Great.