Life Itself

Serendipity

Serendipity

/ˌsɛr(ə)nˈdɪpɪti/

noun

the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

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She lies still in her bed and lifts her hand above her head. Her toys lie strewn on the floor, finally having gotten bored with playing with them alone. She doesn't have many but it's a decent amount. She has a tea set, a pink and blue truck, a doll with two other dresses to change into that her mom had kindly sewn and gifted to her for Christmas, and her most boring toy, a hundred and twenty abacus bead. It was fun at first counting up to a number so high but she soon lost interest. Her mom insists that she'll appreciate it more once she starts the first grade and does math. She adjusts her hand a little and pretends to wrap her hand around the rays of light streaming in through the window.

Her mom is at work and she's home, alone and bored. Her mom can't afford a babysitter so she's usually alone. She thinks that she is old enough to take care of herself until she gets back home from work. The money she used to pay for babysitting could be used else where. Money is already hard to come by so they have to save where they can. So her mom just pays the girl next door to walk her to and from pre-kindergarten.

Everyday before she leaves, her mom states explicitly that she is not allowed, under any circumstances, to open the door for strangers, it must always be locked, as well as the windows of the apartment. She is not allowed to use the stove. She can only use the microwave to reheat what her mom made or make a sandwich but no sharp knives. Only a bread knife.

The walls and ceilings of the apartment are so thin that she can hear the loud, heavy footsteps above and music blasting from the apartment next door. She hears someone knocking on the door and screaming for the person to turn down the music.

She listens closely for the sounds coming downstairs. She usually hears a man shouting from below or banging and loud crying or screaming. It mostly happens at night though. She doesn't hear much other than the occasional banging during the day.

She groans as she throws her legs off of the side of the bed. It squeaks and groans as she pushes herself off it.

She walks to the window and looks out to the alleyway. She looks down at the fire escape. She's never explored it before. She looks over her shoulder to look at the entrance of her room as if she's expecting her mom to walk in at any second.

When she's sure that she's not coming, she opens the window with shaky hands. She has nothing to be afraid of as long as she's back before her mom gets back, she'll be fine. She's thankful that she hadn't taken off her shoes or her small jacket as soon as she got home like she always did.

She carefully climbs out the window and freezes once she's seated on the window sill. She can see all the way to the bottom. She is very high off of the ground, it is scary but also very thrilling. It's a change from the mundane.

She laughs a little and adrenaline rushes through her at doing something she knows that she really shouldn't. She's content to walk the length of their landing but then she gets bored and wants to explore a little more. Since their apartment building is only four storeys and they live on the fourth floor, she can only go down. Her heart stutters and she feels a bit queezy as she looks at the stairs that lead to the third floor. She decides that she can't do it. She's too afraid and returns back to the apartment that she shares with her mom and locks the window once more.