Two Years Later

The pale walls bathed in the fresh morning light, the sun's rays dancing across the surfaces under the melody of sights composed by the first opening of the day. A tranquility so quiet that my own steady breathing was the only sound to hit my ears had settled in the room, giving life to a timeless sensation like even the morning was holding its breath. My arms rested casually over the thin blankets draped over me, a deep red that gently encased me, and my eyes strayed along the blank ceiling but it was like I was hardly there at all as I ventured the thoughts skirting the edges of my mind in the silence.

This January morning, I had been torn from sleep by a wonder that wrenched my very being. It was a thought that had seized my mind one too many times since turning seventeen in the middle of December last year as I wore it out trying to justify my current place. A sort of throbbing ache of potential wasting away as if I were trapped under something else's control clenched my stomach when the idea of my own future crawled in my mind. Hope for the brightest future was something that was slowly slipping from my grasp because I thought that I would have been closer to anything at all by this point than I actually was now, dragged through the days by life and struggling to find my footing to follow my path.

At seventeen, I once expected that I would have at least finished my education by now after graduating two years ago at fifteen, but it was painfully clear that I couldn't even do that. Given that I had taken a year away from school after graduating to recover from the weight it had forced upon me, I had what could have been an excuse for the lack of advancement into the future, but any part of that had been nullified once colleges began to open up again for enrollment.

Isabelle had even extended the offer to help me find a college to attend, so maybe I could have done it for her. As soon as colleges started flinging open their doors to provide opportunities for new students to enroll back in late June last year, our tireless search was initiated from there, but it quickly became evident that I was granted too much flexibility in my choices.

Mom and Dad had urged me not to decide hastily on what I wanted to do with my life but instead wait until I had found something I could stick with, but then what I had done was walk all over this suggestion and stretch out the time that I had waiting for my best option to arrive just so that I wasn't required to return to school so soon. I eventually came to realize that I must have been too careless with my actions when the shift came into play that I was no longer searching for a college to attend this year, having missed my chance to enroll on time, and was now seeking school for next year. Well, if anything, it was time to get it together and quit messing around.

Sure, this wasn't difficult to acknowledge with the evidence that lay in front of me, but still uncertainty hung in the air. How? How was I supposed to fix the chaos that had broken out due to my own negligence? Maybe if I hadn't been so picky and unsatisfied with my former options, then I would actually be somewhere by now. If I didn't break my routine as soon as possible, then my power to form my own future could have been escaping me, just like the last couple of years of my life I had thoughtlessly pushed aside.

I drew in a slow breath, firmly rubbing my eyes to free the thought from my mind. Sounds of shuffling feet and moving animals had begun to register outside of my closed door and the distinct scent of cooking waffles carried through the house, making obvious the fact that I was not the first one awake. Just because others were up and about didn't mean I had to be, I silently reminded myself, and rolled over in the bed to fall back asleep.

Seconds stretched into minutes as I slowly sank back into sleep, revolving memories of the past several months lulling me into my subconscious. I must have visited at least twenty colleges and universities to come across one that stood out to me since the search had first commenced, flashes of lingering images in my mind of several different buildings that I had visited directly with my family. Nowadays, we had fallen into a steady routine of exploring the possibilities of one or two on every other Saturday morning—This resulted in a day that struck twice a month, a day that I had begun to wish no longer existed in routine as it served only as a reminder of my consistent lack of progress.

Which day was today? Was the next scheduled search occurring soon? Yesterday had been the tenth day of January—No, not the tenth, it had to have been the eleventh—Which would have made today Saturday the twelfth. This meant that we had plans to leave sometime today.

And just like that, I did have a reason to get up for the morning. I snuggled into the mattress, squeezing in any last bit of rest I could manage to achieve before the time would come that someone would show up at my door. I barely managed to gain a few more minutes of rest before unhurried footsteps approached my bedroom and I was certain that a knock on my closed door would follow.

When the knock sounded, it was soft and gentle, and therefore I knew it belonged to Mom. Dad's knock was significantly firmer and Isabelle would have rathered a shout over a knock. I let my eyes open again, pushing myself up to a seated position in the bed as I prepared to climb out while the blankets crumpled around my waist.

"It's time to get up now, Digby," Mom said patiently from outside of my bedroom as I ran a paw through my untidy dark hair, brushing it away from my face. "Why don't you come and eat some breakfast? Your sister is at the table waiting for you."

After pulling myself out of bed, I dressed myself in a pair of black sweatpants and a thin gray long-sleeved shirt before I finally cleared out of my bedroom for the morning, leaving my drowsy appearance as it was. I joined my mother, father, and sister at the table for a breakfast of waffles and sliced fruit, but while I worked through my meal, my thoughts strayed to the upcoming events scheduled for the day. The longer the search prevailed, the more a creeping thought told me that it was destined to prove useless. None of the other schools before now had struck me as one I could pursue and seemed to be one I would willingly keep up with, so why would these be any different?

As breakfast came to an end and I seated myself with Isabelle on the living room couch to discuss which colleges to visit today, I kept my doubts to myself. We stretched a wide map across the table in front of the couch, the map that always came into sight whenever a search was in order, and the contemplating gazes of Mom and Dad kept watch over us from the opening from the hallway into the room as we determined our plan.

"I think we might be running out of options, if I'm being honest," Isabelle mumbled thoughtfully to herself, leaning forward to study the map in front of her with her elbows perched upon her knees and a thick marker in her paw. Her dark eyes darted to examine every corner of the map, taking a mental note of the schools we hadn't yet crossed out with a thick X from weeks ago, but the array of X's scattered across the map wasn't exactly a hopeful sight to see. "We've got one more close to the house and maybe four towards the edges of the island."

If she hadn't been advised against it by our parents, Isabelle most likely would have been searching for a school to attend as well. After finishing her final college's program last month, she brought home a diploma that marked the nineteenth university she had graduated from. She had expressed her eagerness to advance further into her education but Mom and Dad hadn't wanted her to accidentally push herself too hard. It had been around that time that she had devoted herself more consistently to helping me find a college since all of her time had been suddenly freed up.

I caught an uncertain glance that Mom sent Dad from across the room before I returned my focus to the map before Isabelle and me.

"Where are they?" I inquired, intently scanning the map for a building that wasn't crossed out.

Instantly, Isabelle's paw shot towards the map to point out the schools she was referencing, causing the bells in her ponytail to rattle with her abrupt movement.

"Here's one," she told me, identifying the icon of a building just about two inches from where our neighborhood was located on the map before she swung her arm to gesture to the areas with the remaining schools along the edges of the island. "The rest are all over here. If you choose to take classes at one of those, it's probably best if you rent out a room to stay near there or opt for online lessons if they provide them. Going there and back again so often is going to be a pain."

Snatching my next words from me, my focus was immediately brought away from the map to the phone on the side table to my left as it rang. Mom burst into action, politely motioning for Isabelle and me to continue our conversation.

"I'll get it, don't worry about it. You can keep on talking," Mom offered, rushing to cross the room and plucking the phone from the receiver. "Hello?" she said into the phone, listening for the response of the caller, and moments later a beaming smile flooded her face at the voice that had greeted her. "Oh, good morning, Lyle. How have you been?"

Isabelle was silently studying the map again. She had begun to absentmindedly latch and unlatch the cap from her marker as she reviewed the options that were still left for us. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to come up with a plan.

"Well, we're staying optimistic, that's for sure," Mom said after a long stretch of silence, sparing a brief glance at the map on the table. "How is Lottie? Has she been well?"

"Do you have any ideas?" Isabelle asked me once Mom had quieted again, raising her head to look at me. "Where would you like to go?"

"I know less about this than you do," I reminded her.

Isabelle nodded in acknowledgment, bells jingling as she proceeded to examine the map, still latching and unlatching her marker as she pondered the situation.

"Oh, I see," Mom went on, turning her back to us so that she didn't disturb our conversations. "You know, I don't actually know very much about the routine over there. How do you go about fixing that? What does the procedure look like?"

Isabelle appeared to be struck with an idea as she yanked off the cap of her marker completely and tucked it onto the opposite end before launching herself to the front of her seat again to point out something on the map.

"Here's what I'm thinking," she told me, pointing her marker to an available school near the top and unintentionally leaving small dots as she did so. "We should stop by this one today. This is one of the first ones I went to. It'll be a long walk, but I'll be able to tell you everything I know about it when we get there."

It sounded like a sturdy plan to me. After all, my only responsibility was to visit the college and decide whether or not it seemed like one I would attend. Receiving Isabelle's knowledge on the school as well as visiting it directly would have been an extra benefit.

"Good. I think we should do that," I agreed.

For the past several seconds, Mom had been silently nodding along at her conversation over the phone with Lyle, offering a murmured "mm-hmm" where it was necessary, but it was only after a while that she finally spoke up again.

"We haven't had much luck, unfortunately. He hasn't yet found a college he plans on attending," Mom admitted, quieting again to allow for a reply. "No, neither of them are working yet. Isabelle's been after a job of some sort for quite some time, but she hasn't come across anything that will hire someone of her age."

Isabelle snuck a glance at our mother after hearing her name come up in conversation, withdrawing her marker from the map.

"They're talking about us," she whispered.

"All right. Well, I'm glad you called. It's nice to just have a little chat and check in every once in a while. Please have a good rest of your day," Mom exchanged her goodbyes with Lyle before setting down the phone on the receiver again.

"What's the news?" Isabelle inquired, snapping the cap back onto her marker as Mom straightened up to her full height again.

"They're busy working on filling working positions at Happy Home," Mom explained, changing the subject with curious inquiry. "Have you come to a decision on what the plan is for today?"

"Yes, we have." Isabelle tossed the marker onto the couch cushion beside her and leaned forward to promptly tap the symbol of the school we would visit with her paw. "We're thinking of going here this time."

Mom hovered over the map, squinting as she carefully observed it.

"Oh, that's a very long walk, maybe thirty or thirty five minutes," she warned Isabelle. "Maybe we should visit two different ones in that area today so that we don't have to take that walk so many times. We'll be gone longer, but I honestly think it would be more convenient this way."

Isabelle examined the map for another moment before she nodded abruptly, casting a glance up at our mother.

"That probably makes more sense," she agreed.

"I think so too," Mom replied, withdrawing from the map to watch Isabelle and me instead. "In that case, you two should start getting ready to go. We'll get going when you're both ready. Does that sound okay?"

The four of us were out of the house no later than nine o'clock in the morning. We set out on our journey to the first school after we had all bundled up in our winter coats to fight the biting chill, but even my thick and puffy gray coat wasn't enough to prevent a shiver jolting down my spine. The brisk air pinched my face and paws, leaving me stiff like a solid block of ice as I shuffled closer to my destination. It barely took two minutes out of the house to wish that I was still there.

We finally entered the first college, a spacious building with countless windows revealing the sights of the bleak outside world, to find that the clock above the main entrance read nine thirty-seven. We were several minutes in before I had thawed out again after emerging into the building as Mom, Dad, Isabelle, and I wandered the halls to find the main office with my sister listing every fact, small and important, that she knew about the place as we walked.

The animals working in the main office of the college were even generous enough to send someone to take us along on a sort of tour through the school and show us to all of the key locations. While the many windows across the walls were a striking sight, the longer that the tour progressed, the more it became clear that there was nothing about the school that stood out against my other options. It was yet another unsatisfactory choice.

By the time that my family had made our reappearance at the exit to prepare to leave, the clock was ever so slowly reaching for the eleventh hour and a dimness settled outside of the windows from the cloudy skies as snowflakes swirled to the bare ground. Mom had assured me that the walk to the second and final school of the day would have been nothing longer than ten minutes, but I was already tugging my hood onto my head and wrapping myself snugly in my coat to keep out the cold before I was even out the door.

Just like everything I had hoped against, the second school was nothing special. Unlike the first one, it was a significantly smaller building but with the same number of students, causing the space to feel congested and packed and squeezed my chest in a breathless grip. I had known for certain that this would have not been the school for me within the first few minutes of entering, but my parents were more patient. Since the current semester had already begun for the students, the staff had been too preoccupied to offer a tour, so we took it upon ourselves to explore the public rooms on our own time. We visited a deserted cafeteria, a focus space where several students gathered to finish work at tables scattered throughout the room, and glass cases presenting the most admired work—All the while I couldn't tear the thought from my mind that I had already denied the opportunity to attend.

Hearing the agreement between Mom and Dad that we would be leaving the school shortly after eleven thirty was almost like a breath of relief to be free of responsibility for the day. My mind was already whirring to come up with ways to spend the remainder of the day as we made our way to the exit in preparation to venture out into the wintry outdoors to head home, each wrapping ourselves in our coats again. It was only as we were thrusting past the doors into the sweeping chill that the thought occurred that we were finished because we had failed.

"What do you think, Digby?" Mom asked me when we were strolling down the sidewalk on our way back home. The wind whistled as it skimmed the area, carrying tiny snowflakes on its way, and nipped at my aching face. "Did you find a college that you'd like to attend?"

Shivering out of my skin, I didn't have the energy to lie.

"I don't think that I would be able to stick with either of them," I told her, anticipating the gentle lecture that would follow by my carelessness in my choices. But Mom was patient.

"That's okay. I want you to choose what's best for you," she replied, managing a smile through the bitter chill. "We'll have better luck next time."

And then, once again, we didn't.

The second search for the month of January was scheduled for Saturday the twenty-sixth. The day began with its usual routine of rising from bed at about eight in the morning, enjoying a brief breakfast, and re-grouping in the living room to review the map and evaluate our current choices of schools to visit. With only three remaining colleges and a dwindling hope for my academic future, the meeting was met with concerned faces and tense voices.

We came to the decision to stop by at the college that was closest to our house to remove the hassle and reserve the final two for the ninth of February. As it was nothing longer than a fifteen minute walk to reach our destination, Mom and Dad had allowed Isabelle and me to practice accountability and sent us to leave by ourselves without parental supervision. And so, I left the house with only my twin sister to accompany me and we took the brief hike to the school.

It didn't take long at all for me to see that it was nothing but yet another inadequate choice. The building was like a labyrinth, twisting and winding hallways that led to several different directions that I struggled to take note of, and that wasn't even taking into consideration the three other floors that remained unexplored. Isabelle had assumed the role of initiative as the older twin between us, guiding me through the perplexing rows of halls and showing me where to go for the visit. I kept myself close by her side to keep from straying and getting lost, but I knew well that the mission was doomed from the start.

Though I resisted mentioning these suspicions, it seemed that Isabelle somehow already knew. A glimmer of hope had shone in her night-black eyes when we had first arrived, but as the morning crawled on, it quickly faded out as the truth settled unspokenly. It was no use. It was too late for me to get anywhere with my future if I couldn't even manage to devote myself to a college to attend. We took our time departing from the building, savoring our independence without our parents the best we could and wandering through the sunlit halls together exchanging lighthearted and meaningless conversations. At the strike of noon, we decided at last that it was best to return home.

The first several minutes of the walk back home were spent in silence as we quietly processed the events of the morning. I shuffled over the fresh coat of snow with Isabelle at my side, piecing through my current situation in my mind and what my future was to look like from here on out, but every minute spent contemplating the topic stirred a sour curdling in my stomach to progressively intensify. What if I had already thrown away my entire future by being so careless? What if I had lost the opportunity to make a change in my life because of it?

After aimlessly examining the blanket of snow at her feet as we sauntered along the path, Isabelle raised her head to glance at me, causing the bells in her ponytail to rattle.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

"I've been better," I admitted. "My stomach hurts a bit."

"I don't think we need to worry just yet. We still have a couple more options of schools to choose from," Isabelle reminded me. So she did know.

A silence stretched between us again. I slipped my paws into my coat pockets to contain the warmth as Isabelle dropped her head to study the untouched snow in front of her again. For a little while, only the crunching of our shoes over the snow could have been heard, letting the tranquility of the afternoon swallow our voices, and Isabelle spoke again.

"I think it's probably best for me to be honest in this situation," Isabelle said, eyes focused on the unseen path before us as we stepped along. "I'm not sure that I can really see a college future for you, considering how much high school brought you down. I don't want you to struggle like that again. Plus, you haven't even decided on a major yet."

"Yeah," I mumbled in agreement. I hadn't yet considered how my high school experience would have played into my ability to find a college, but I couldn't deny that it made sense. Now that idea seemed so much farther away from me.

"I'm not saying you should just give up," Isabelle rushed to correct herself. "I'm just trying to think of another plan. Maybe there's something different that you could do."

Work. This was the very first idea to leap to mind. But as the reminder of my high school grades resurfaced, I canceled out that thought just as quickly as it had arrived.

"I don't think I have any other choice," I told her. "I don't know of any job that would hire me right now. I almost failed out of high school and I've never been to college. It's probably useless to even try anything different."

Isabelle didn't have an answer to this. I heard a soft, worried sigh escape her as she turned her attention back to the path. I continued walking on in silence as a shadow fell over the land with a cloud passing over the sun, drowning the light in our quietness. Her eyes had fallen out of focus in the way that they always did whenever she deeply contemplated something. It was only after a few minutes of trudging through the snow without conversation that Isabelle found something to say.

"I really don't think it's at the point where we need to worry. You do have other options if you don't end up finding a school you like," she told me. The weight of concern had since lifted from her voice as she fell back into her usual optimism. "I mean, if all else fails, you can go to school off the island."

The suggestion immediately sent a sharp jab to my gut as if I had just been punched in the stomach.

"I don't think I can do that," I admitted. "Going back to school is scary enough as it is. Going back so far away from home would just make it that much worse."

"Yeah, I considered that as well," Isabelle agreed and I heard the bells in her ponytail rattle as she raised her head to look at me. "Well, let's say that you don't find a good choice next time. What are you going to do?"

I thought about this. A shadow was falling over the fresh layer of snow again as we pushed on through. The nearing sight of unlit streetlights and shoveled pathways revealed that we were just a few minutes from arriving at home, a few minutes from telling our parents that we had failed once again.

With the uncertainty that the future held, I struggled to differentiate between what was temporary and what was permanent. I saw myself failing to find a school of my liking and being stuck at home without a completed education or work, not just in two weeks but for years to come. My main concern right now might have been my failure to receive education, but what was to happen when that concern was earning an income and taking care of myself on my own years down the line? My stomach tightened into knots again at the weight of the question.

"I don't know," I confessed, catching the thickness in my own voice brought about by the rising stress within me. "I don't know what to do. I just can't imagine myself being successful with this. I'm just thinking that if I'm going to sit uselessly at home into my twenties, then I can already see it coming."

Isabelle's sudden drop towards the snow snatched my focus away from my aimless rant to quickly discover that she hadn't slipped and fallen but had instead crouched down as if to pick up something from the ground. I hardly had the time to turn and face her before she was on her feet again, grabbing hold of the hood of my coat to thrust something inside. With a yelp escaping from my throat from the abrupt yank on my coat and a searing chill forming on the back of my neck, it was clear that she had chucked a pawful of snow at me.

"But I bet you didn't see that coming!" Isabelle told me as I rushed to shake the snow from my coat, succeeding only in allowing it to drip in a frigid dampness down my back. The anxious tension seemed to shrink away from my stomach as how absolutely ridiculous the situation was struck my humor and sent a spurt of laughter from deep in my chest.

"Oh, you're going to regret that," I joked, already reaching down to scoop up as much snow as I could possibly hold in my paws. Isabelle was hastily retreating by the time I had straightened up again, still giggling to herself on her way, but even as she tried to escape, the snow made a direct hit to her face.

Chaos immediately broke out. The next thing I knew, snow was being flung through the air as I repeatedly dodged Isabelle's attacks, but it soon became clear that she had a better aim than I had anticipated as the snow she hurled at me frequently struck me anyway. And just like that, in that very moment, it was as though we had no care in the world and nothing else mattered besides what was right in front of us. As far as I was concerned, this was our epic battle and I had plans to win.

We had finally called it quits when we had both run short of energy and went on to finish our walk home. I struggled to catch my breath from running around so much and an ache pulsed in my back from once losing my footing and crashing down on the ground after trying to avoid one of Isabelle's throws, but I couldn't tear a smile from my face as we returned home.

Maybe I didn't even need a strong sense of purpose in life to find true happiness right where I needed it most.

The month of January came to its steady end on a much lighter note than I would have expected earlier in the year. I had finally broken free from the restraining grip of stress thanks to Isabelle's guidance and for the first time in several weeks found myself able to contemplate my future without my mind becoming clouded with the insistent speculation of failure. I was going to teach myself to take life one step at a time, to rewrite my past habits of jumping to assume what my future was set to look like and instead considering what was right in my sights.

Nowadays, I was very close with Isabelle. She understood me better than anyone else could, seeming to know just what I was thinking or feeling just by looking at me, and we easily fell into that uncomplicated energy of connection that only best friends could share. We spent many hours of every day together even when there was nothing to talk about and the only problem about this that made itself clear in our routine was the fact that she went to bed earlier than I did. I spent the last few hours of every evening alone, but it wasn't difficult to tell that I didn't have the faintest idea how to stay entertained by myself without becoming bored out of my mind by the lack of company.

On the particularly dimly lit night of February third, I kept myself busy by taking a book I had borrowed from the library at the end of last month to read in bed to relax for the night. I had assumed that the dense quietness settling in the house would have been the most convenient setting for reading and had stolen the opportunity as soon as it was presented, but it wasn't long before my focus began to stray. I was already settled in bed to wind down for the night with the idea that I would read until I was too sleepy to continue when I would begin to get ready to go to sleep, but barely ten minutes after I had sat down, I couldn't follow a full paragraph before my eyes left the page again to explore the surroundings of my bedroom. Clearly, I no longer sustained the ability to knock out even a few hours with a good book like I could when I was much younger.

I had put the book down after that, shortly afterward finding myself thoughtlessly wandering the house so as to keep my mind occupied by the movement. Both Isabelle's and my parents' doors had been shut as some of the animals in this house had begun to close themselves off in their bedrooms for the night, but as I soon discovered, Mom was still up and sitting at the table. She appeared to be analyzing an unfinished crossword puzzle under the glow of the dining room light against the night's shadows and gave me a bright smile when I emerged into the room. I had nothing else to do, so I seated myself at the table with her.

The sound of Mom's pen scratching against the paper as she jotted down an answer filled the room as we sat wordlessly. For a while, I might not have had anything to offer as conversation, but my thoughts were spinning busily as she sat quietly and peacefully to finish her activity. Her eyes darted to scan the sheet after she was done writing, so focused and so preoccupied that I almost wondered if she had forgotten that I was here with her. She looked like she didn't need to worry about anything. She probably wasn't thinking about my consistent struggle to find a college to attend. She probably wasn't thinking about my academic future at all right now.

I hadn't even considered my parents' stance on my situation until now. Up until this point, I had been so absorbed in the fact of how I felt about it or even how Isabelle felt about it and I had never stopped to consider what Mom and Dad thought about it. If they were upset with me or fed up with my poor decisions, they surely didn't show it in their faces or in their tones. I wasn't sure that disappointment would have been easy to hear from them either.

"Mom?" I said at last. Mom dropped her focus from her puzzle and raised her head to look at me across the table.

"Yes, Digby?" she inquired.

"Are you disappointed in me?" I asked her. Each moment was stretched into a million after the words had left me, waiting in anticipation for an answer that could either make me relieved or make me ashamed.

Mom set down her pen on the table to become more present in the conversation. I caught a touch of worry in the expression on her face.

"Why would I be disappointed in you?" she questioned, watching me with a still gaze. "Is this because of school?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. After avoiding Mom's gaze, I couldn't seem to tear my own away from the wooden surface of the table in front of me. "I've been thinking about it a lot recently. I wasn't sure if you and Dad were disappointed or upset that it's taken me this long to find a college and I still haven't found one."

The lack of verbal response to this at first pulled my focus back to Mom as she leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table next to her puzzle and her chin in her paw. The concern on her face had grown significantly more distinct in the time that I had been looking away.

"Of course we're not disappointed in you," Mom told me. Her voice was soft and fragile, a definite sign that my statement had begun to make her emotional. "Not in the slightest. I want you to choose what's best for you, not just because you want something in the place of nothing. I want you to make your own choice, even if it takes a while to find the right one."

But this was exactly my problem. I really did want something in the place of nothing, especially after having so much nothing for so long. At this point, I was nearly willing to settle for something I wasn't satisfied with just to have something at all. I wanted something just so that it wouldn't be too late to change my nothing. The idea of letting my opportunity to change my life slip away from me instantly flooded my mind again.

"I don't know how to make my own choice," I admitted truthfully as Mom listened intently. "I don't know what choice to make to have a future I can look forward to. I don't even know how to make that future a reality. I'm scared that I lost my chance to change my life and I won't get that chance again. If I'm already seventeen years old and don't have any sort of idea what to make of my future, I honestly can't see myself getting anywhere at all."

Mom reached across the table with her free paw, taking hold of mine and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Honey, you're still so young," she reminded me. "You will always have the time to make a change in your life, no matter how old you get. You still have three, four, even five times the amount of life you've lived up to this point to decide which path you want your future to take. I don't want you to be so worried about it. When the time for change occurs, a change will always follow."

It was easier to breathe now. When put into perspective, I could easily see that I still had so much time ahead of me. Maybe I didn't need to plan out my entire future so early on, but that didn't mean I couldn't start coming up with some ideas. I managed a smile, giving a nod to show that I understood.

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised. Mom offered a beaming smile in return, squeezing my paw one final time before she withdrew her own again.

"Why don't you go and get some sleep?" she suggested, taking up her pen from the table to resume her crossword puzzle. "We'll talk about it more in the morning."

. . .

The house was quiet when I had awakened. There was no movement, no talking, no shuffling feet, just silence. The first possibility to come to mind after I had torn myself from sleep was that Mom, Dad, and Isabelle had left to buy groceries while I was still sleeping and now I woke to an empty house. With the peaceful, yet vaguely eerie silence, it wasn't all that bad of a guess.

I pulled on a simple outfit of a white t-shirt and black pants before stumbling drowsily out of my bedroom seeking answers for my solitude. Brief words of greeting waited on the tip of my tongue for the potential event that I would run into someone in the dining room, but when I emerged into the room, it remained deserted. Despite its emptiness, it left a hint that I was not the first to stop by. A small basket of fruit that appeared every morning for breakfast on the table had been positioned next to a full pitcher of iced tea as well as two glasses. Mom and Dad must have been already up and about somewhere and had prepared some iced tea for when Isabelle and I would wake up as well.

I silently wandered the edge of the table, searching along the surface and between the items for a written note stating that my parents and possibly Isabelle had already gone out for the morning, but I found nothing of the sort. A vague sense of bewilderment was creeping through my mind. If they hadn't left the house, where else could they have gone?

This question received an answer hardly minutes after it had struck me. I had first scanned the doors placed throughout the hallways for a note or some kind of sign as to where my parents had disappeared to before taking a chance and opening the front door to peer out to check if I could see anything. I could indeed, I quickly realized, and upon thrusting open the door to reveal the outside world as well as a sweep of icy air located my mother and father bundled up in their winter gear and working to shovel a path out from the house through the snow.

Mom and Dad had both heard the door open and raised their heads from their work as I poked my head out of the house. Enthusiastic smiles instantly found their faces at the sight of me as Mom raised a paw to wave to me in the doorway.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Mom called out from her place on the sidewalk, dropping her paw back to the handle of her shovel. "We got a lot of snow last night!"

"We did?" I sent a brief glance across the snow-covered yard. The height of snow wasn't noticeably taller than it had been yesterday, but the presence of a bright glittering across the surface implied a brand new coat of it.

"Mm-hmm, quite a bit," Mom told me. "We'll be done shoveling this pathway soon. You should go ahead and grab yourself some breakfast to eat. We'll join you in a bit. We made some iced tea if you'd like to have some with your fruit."

A faint chill still drifted in the room even after I had shut the door again. Ignoring a slight shiver shooting down my spine, I made my way back to the table and claimed one of the empty glasses left out for the iced tea, raising the pitcher to carefully pour the liquid. I lowered the pitcher to the approaching sound of shuffled footsteps, gently setting it down on the table again and raising my head in time to see Isabelle emerge into the room from the hallway. She was already dressed for the day in a honey-yellow longsleeved dress and a drowsy, dazed face. I offered a smile as she stepped into the room, sauntering sleepily to the table.

"Good morning," I greeted her, relocating the pitcher on the table closer to her so that she could take her serving. "You look tired."

"I don't feel very tired," Isabelle mumbled, joining me at the side of the table and grasping hold of the handle of the pitcher.

I drew out the closest chair at the table and lowered myself into a seat as Isabelle poured herself a glass of iced tea, putting the pitcher back down as I settled. I scooted the chair closer to the edge of the table again in preparation to begin the meal and started to reach for my drink, but Isabelle was speaking again.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" Isabelle inquired before tilting her head back to take a long sip of her tea.

"They're out shoveling the sidewalk," I explained, resting my elbows on the table in front of me as she lowered her glass again. The conversation I had shared with our parents just a few minutes earlier flashed through my mind again. "It snowed today. Did you know?"

"Yeah, I saw it from my window," Isabelle told me, setting down her glass on the table in front of her.

With nothing of importance to talk about, silence quickly grew between us again. I sipped my iced tea, a swirl of sweet tea and lemon flavor bursting to life on my tongue with the first sip. Isabelle reached out to snag an orange from the basket on the table at the top of the arrangement of fruits. Without the wall of distraction I had held up by conversation, memories of the talk I shared with Mom last night and the reminder of my current college situation spilled out in my mind again.

What if Isabelle had been right? What if there really were other existing options for me? If I didn't end up choosing a school to attend on the ninth, I supposed that it was still entirely possible to review my past choices again and single out one from those. I didn't even need to visit them a second time; as soon as we visited once, my name and address had been registered to receive regular mail from them containing crucial information updates or promotions of the college itself.

I haven't checked the mailbox in a while, I remembered as Isabelle set her orange on the surface of the table before her and proceeded to break apart the peel. I snuck a glance at the front door over my shoulder, pondering whether or not I would leave to check the mailbox for any mail from the colleges I had visited, but I had already settled down at the table.

"Isabelle, can you go out and check the mailbox?" I requested, raising my head to look up at her standing beside me. "You might as well do it before we get snowed in again."

"Good point," Isabelle agreed with a nod, withdrawing her paws from her orange to abandon it partially-peeled on the table. "I'll do that now."

I thanked her and was soon met with solitude again as she took her leave from the room to return to her bedroom, likely to grab a jacket for the harsh February chill that already pierced the air. She made a reappearance from the hallway shortly after, tugging on a pale pink hoodie over her yellow dress and sparing me a brief glance as she crossed the room before she stepped through the front doorway and yanked the door shut after her.

I was alone in the room once again. I continued to sip at my iced tea, letting the tranquility of the solitude sink in. With the couple of minutes that I could fall back into my thoughts, I sifted through the memories of all of the colleges I had visited in the last several months, picking through images of different buildings that still lingered in my mind.

There had been one I hadn't minded too strongly, one I recalled less by the sights and more by the fact that it had prioritized building a friendly community over everything else. A much smaller and exclusive one I had stopped by at in November hadn't seemed all that bad either—It had contained more classes with less students rather than a large number of students per limited classes, which surely would have prevented my anxiety to a certain degree, and had even offered a snack and refreshments bar in a room where students had gathered to work.

I was straining to remember just what treats the refreshments bar had offered when the front door unlatched in preparation to open. I twisted in my seat to send a glance over my shoulder at the door again as it swung open for Isabelle to step through, emerging into the room and nudging the door shut after her. She pushed the door closed with one paw as the other held two envelopes.

"There was something?" I said as she turned to face me.

"Something for both of us," Isabelle told me, crossing the room to reach her seat again and tossing one of the envelopes onto the table in front of me on her way.

Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't from a college, since it wouldn't have sent mail addressed to both of us. As Isabelle pulled out the chair next to mine from the table and took a seat, I reached out and picked up my envelope from the table, and hardly needed to study it longer than a blink of an eye to see that it was the result of the next most likely occurrence: Lottie was writing to us. I easily recognized the tidy, mindfully-executed handwriting without much of a thought. Isabelle and I often received mail from Lottie, letters from her appearing frequently in our mailbox as we enjoyed keeping in touch.

Wait. My thoughts were cut short as an observation quite suddenly stood out to me. This was not a usual letter from Lottie. This one wasn't addressed from her house, the address that had come to burn itself into my memory after seeing it on the envelopes for so many years. The envelope was instead addressed from the HHDA, the interior design company where Lottie worked alongside her uncle.

"It's from Lottie," I noted aloud, eyeing the words on the back of the envelope as if they were about to jump out at me. Isabelle, who had not yet touched her envelope after abandoning it on the table, paused in the action of peeling her orange to glance at me, which I heard in the jingling of the bells in her ponytail. "I recognize the handwriting."

"So did I," Isabelle agreed. "Why do you think she's writing to us from her work?"

"I don't know. Let's find out," I said, flipping over the envelope in my paw to be able to open it.

I tore open the envelope, keeping a cautious watch on it to make sure I didn't tear the letter inside as well by accident. Once I had managed to rip open the envelope, I gently removed a single sheet of paper from inside and unfolded it to read its contents. I could hear Isabelle begin to break off the peel from her orange as my eyes silently danced across the written words of the letter, intently searching for the reason they were put down in the first place, and then quite suddenly, everything changed. In the split second that the truth finally became clear, I felt as though I had been struck in the head as the shock washed over me and sent such a powerful lurch to my heart that for a moment I worried that it was about to leap up into my throat.

Dear Digby,

I sincerely hope that your day is well and that you have been in good health. I do apologize for the lack of communication over the past few months, as I have been exceptionally busy at work, though I must confess that I write to you today of a much different matter than any other discussed previously. I understand that the sudden news may come as a bit of a surprise, but I hope that it does not cause intimidation.

A few weeks before this present date, I was made aware that you currently do not attend a place of business or involve yourself in some type of work. If the information I have received about the situation is correct, you have been in search of a form of work for quite some time. I have taken this information into consideration and have discovered a fitting solution to the problem at hand.

In order to change your current situation of unemployment, I would like to offer you a position of work as an instructor at the Happy Home Designer and Academy. We have been seeking new workers to fill openings in the instructor positions and would like you to consider attending work at this location. In the event of your potential acceptance, I advise that you start attending work before the day of March first. I will arrive personally at your home to teach you any directions that you require the knowledge of.

Please contact me or any other instructor by the day of February nineteenth with your response. Failure to do so will result in the immediate withdrawal of the offer and the positions of work will be made unavailable. I look forward to hearing from you and hope that we can soon begin our collaboration.

Sincerely,

Lottie

Happy Home Designer and Academy

My heart hammered in my chest. Thoughts were already whirling through my head as I tried to process the situation I had stumbled into. An offer of work. If this meant what I thought it did, then my search for a school to attend had just come to a swift and immediate end. My paw, which had begun to shake involuntarily, shot out to clutch Isabelle's arm to get her attention as she proceeded to split her orange in peace, causing her to stop and jolt to face me.

"Get Mom and Dad," I insisted, the words rushing to leave me so hastily that I almost stumbled over them.

"What? Why?" Isabelle urged to know.

"Lottie is offering us jobs," I told her. The shift in expression on her face was instant, turning baffled at my reaction into widened eyes of shock.

"What are you talking about?" she gaped, yanking her arm out of my grasp to launch herself forward and grab hold of her own envelope to see for herself.

"It's all in the letter. You'll see. Just read it," I pressed, scrambling up from the table with only one clear thought screaming out in my mind. "I'll get Mom and Dad."

The pathway out from the house had been almost completely cleared out of snow when I flung the door open again, leaving a thin strip of extra snow along the side. Mom and Dad were working through the snow towards the opposite end of the path but were instantly startled by the abruptness of my exit, casting uncertain glances at me as I thrust through the doorway into the icy atmosphere.

"I just got a job!" I burst out as my parents shared a baffled expression. They didn't have a clue what I was talking about. "Isabelle and I were just offered work! We just got—"

I had been close to mentioning my newly found opportunity to work at the HHDA when my words were cut short as my feet slipped out from under me after stepping too carelessly over the slippery path of ice coated by fresh snow. My arms flailed to grab onto something to prevent my fall but, with nothing to grab, I crashed down onto my back on the snowy ground. I was climbing back up again when my parents abandoned their shovels and rushed to check on me.

"An offer of work?" Mom echoed hopefully, taking a firm grip on my arms to help me to my feet.

"Yeah," I exclaimed. A thin dampness clung to my back from my fall into the snow but a thrill like none other I had ever experienced surged through me, a deep chill swarming my very being and my heart soaring in my chest as if it were skimming the skies. "The letters are inside. Come look at them."

I was the first to enter the house, launching myself eagerly through the doorway to find Isabelle standing near the table with her own letter between her paws, hurriedly meeting my gaze with a stunned expression locked over her yellow face as I pushed my way inside. Mom and Dad emerged closely after me, filing into the room beside me to figure out what was happening as they shared Isabelle's startled glance.

"Digby is telling us that you both just received offers for jobs," Mom offered a questioning statement as the door fell shut behind us. For the first time, Dad couldn't seem to find the words to respond to the situation, silently glancing between Isabelle and me as he processed the situation.

"Yeah, I think so," Isabelle replied, moving forward to outstretch the letter for Mom to take. "It's from Lottie. She wants us to work at Happy Home."

"From Lottie?" Mom repeated, gently retrieving the letter from Isabelle's grasp and dropping her gaze to read the letter in front of her.

My mind was reeling, playing and replaying the events of the morning to experience it to its fullest potential and wear it out. Words echoed through my memory and writing seemed to lift right off of the page. When the time for change occurs, change will always follow. It was about time for a change in my life, a break in my ceaseless routine of constant failure, and change followed.

This was just the beginning of my advance into the future.