I felt like death. 6 o'clock was far too early for anyone to be awake. It was clear to me now that farmers were the most hardcore of all people. Screw those punk rockers, they had no idea what hardcore was.

The sun was still rising, and though it was not visible from my north-facing window, I could feel myself waking up as I took in the view. From here, I couldn't see Pelican Town, but I did see a good chunk of the valley and some mountains. Perhaps one day I would learn their names and explore them.

It was a slow process dragging myself out of bed and over to the box Mayor Lewis had left for me. I opened it, wincing, expecting the worst – a pile of dung, dirty laundry, body parts. I was pleasantly surprised.

He had given me parsnip seeds, fifteen packets of them to be precise. I was tickled by his charity and thoughtfulness. Perhaps this was a good omen.

"Here's to year 1," I said as I emptied the box onto the floor.

I dragged my backpack over and opened it. I was going to need my tools today – an exciting prospect. I took them out one by one and held them in my hands, testing their weight. They weren't heavy now, but I imagined being exhausted and trying to wield the scythe. I was probably going to get into better shape just by taking up this new profession. Take that, punk rockers.

Stuffing the parsnip seeds into an easy to access pocket, I pulled my backpack on and opened my front door.

It was an amazing sight from the front porch, especially with the sunrise painting the backdrop. Pelican Town lay just to the east in its quiet splendour. It seemed that I was the only one up at this hour as I could not see any signs of life in Pelican Town. The lucky bastards could sleep in because they weren't farmers. I let out a small sigh.

I hopped down the steps and landed on solid dirt. The land was a mess of logs, weeds, grass, boulders, trees, and stones. I knew with a sinking heart that I would have to clear some of it out before I could even plant my parsnip seeds. But something caught my attention.

The flag was up on my mailbox, and I rushed over to check what I had received. Unsurprisingly, it was a letter from my parents. It read:

My one, only, and dearest child,

How did your first night go? Your father and I spent the entire drive back from the bus station debating what sorts of dangers you would have to deal with. My money was on bats, your father's was on ghosts. Sometimes I wonder why I married him – just kidding!

Speaking of bats, a family of them seem to have made a home in the Johnstons' tree. I could hear their children taunting the poor creatures from the kitchen last evening. They were so loud! I had the window closed, even!

I am working out the logistics on how to send you things, but once I get that sorted out (which should be really very soon), expect a care package, or at least a care item. Your father is doubtful that I will be able to get an entire package of goodies to you, but he is a less courageous person than I. Hmm, you probably got your courage from me. My courageousness genes are probably partly to blame as to why you moved out to the countryside in the first place. I am my own worst enemy it seems.

I really do wish you would get a phone or internet.

It is lonely without you in the house with us. We've decided to keep your room as it is should you ever want to visit (please!) or need to come back. We miss you like crazy. I need to stop before I stain this letter with my tears. Your dad says hi.

Love for now and always,

Mom (and dad)

I could not help but smile. A warmth suffused through me and I reread the letter twice more. I would have to figure out how to send a reply back. I had heard nothing about a post office in town, but there had to be some way to send word back that I had survived my first night. I tucked the letter into my back pocket.

With renewed optimism, I returned to the patch of weeds I had been eyeing just in front of the front porch. "Here goes nothing," I muttered, and got to work. I was thankful that I had come out here as much as I had during my youth. I had seen grandpa do this every spring – granted, he had never let it get this bad. After two hours of back-breaking work, I could officially say that I had underestimated my grandpa all those years. He had been a lot stronger than he'd looked.

The sun was out in its full glory and sweat had begun to coat my face. It was time to plant those parsnips. I retrieved the packets from my backpack and held them in my hand. How exactly was I supposed to do this? Grandpa had had sprinklers, I remembered. Those had affected the growing patterns he'd used, but what about for someone who only had a watering can?

I wracked my brain. Maybe a line would be a good way to start. I placed the seeds a sensible space apart on the ground in a straight line, covered them with dirt, and dribbled some water over them. Now what? Was I done for the day?

No, something was wrong. I thought for a moment. What had I seen grandpa do?

I reached down and touched the dirt where the seeds were buried and it struck me. I hadn't tilled the soil.

With a sigh, I dug them back up – at least, the ones I could find – and re-did my process, this time tilling the soil first. This was stupidly slow, but at least it was done now. I thought about the checklist in my journal. It was time to head into town.

I fished around in my jeans pocket to see how much money I had remembered to pack. I was suddenly very disappointed with my past self. 500g was all I had on me. Hopefully seeds would not be expensive.

More seeds meant more land had to be cleared, though. I sighed. I'd may as well do that now.

I picked up my pickaxe and went to work on a rock beside one of my parsnip seeds – except my exhaustion made me slip, and the pickaxe drove into a seed I had just planted. I let out a small scream. That was one more seed I had squandered.

With murderous thoughts, I tucked my pickaxe back into my backpack, and headed towards town. It had been a long time since I had last properly been through there, and my nervousness mixed with my irritation to form a fresh, new kind of anxiety. I walked quickly past the bus stop and headed into town.

It was noticeable that I had reached some sort of urbanity. The dirt path gave way to stone, and there were sounds in the air of people out and about. I made a beeline for the general store, hoping not to run into anyone on the way. Thankfully, it was not far from this entrance to town. I made it past the clinic, got only minorly distracted by the bulletin board, and pushed my way inside.

The store was mostly shelves filled with goods and seeds. At the back I could see a sensibly dressed man about my dad's age standing behind a counter. Just beside him was a sign advertising a large backpack that sat on the counter just to the right of him. As I approached the counter, I saw that this model of backpack was a lot cheaper than those I had seen in the city. It was also about three models behind the latest, but it was much more practical than my current one. The city oozed out of me without me knowing it, and I felt self-conscious.

"Hi, I'm Pierre, owner of the general store in town, but you probably figured that out already." The man grinned broadly, the light glinting off the lenses of his glasses. "And you must be the new farmer. Welcome to Pelican Town!"

I laughed nervously. "Thanks."

"What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to buy some seeds.

"Ah yes, Mayor Lewis was in here just yesterday begging me to release some parsnip seeds to him early. My stock is seasonal and only turns over at the first of every season so you're here right on time."

"Oh gosh, I hope he didn't have to pay premium for those parsnip seeds." I chewed my bottom lip.

Pierre gave me a questioning look.

"He gave them to me," I explained. "House-warming present. Though," I lowered my voice, "I managed to destroy some of the seeds this morning."

Pierre frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I forgot to till the soil initially, but I managed to salvage most of the seeds. There were some I couldn't find, though," I admitted. "Oh, and another seed I destroyed by hitting with my pickaxe. My aim was off and I was just exhausted from clearing out some of my land."

"Oh." Pierre's tone indicated some amount of disapproval. "That's silly."

I raised my eyebrows at him and pursed my lips together. "It wasn't on purpose."

"No, no, of course not," he scoffed.

"Well, perhaps I should take my business elsewhere," I said haughtily. I remembered doing some research online about Pelican Town before moving here, and there had been mention of a Joja Mart. Just the thought of "Joja" made my skin crawl, but Pierre didn't have to know that.

His expression changed immediately. "What? No, no, I'm sorry. I really appreciate your patronage."

"I haven't bought anything yet."

"Well, what would you like?" His grin was sheepish and apologetic in equal parts.

"More parsnip seeds," I said firmly, "and some of those, and those, and those. Five of each!" I pointed at various seeds on the shelves. I had no idea what they were, but seeds were seeds.

Pierre gathered them all together on the counter. He pressed a series of keys on the cash register. "Alright, that'll be 1000g," Pierre said, smiling plaintively.

My jaw dropped. "I can't afford that."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, you know what, let's scrap these kale and green bean seeds," I said quickly, separating them from the pile. "I'm not a fan of the colour green anyway."

Pierre raised an eyebrow at me, but did not say anything as he put the kale and green bean seeds back onto the shelf behind him. "Alright, so your new total will be 350g."

"Oh, okay." I put on my best poker face and handed him my money. The 150g left in my pocket made a sad sound as I shuffled forward and put the seeds in my backpack. "Well, thank you," I said to Pierre. I caught a look of bewilderment on his face before I turned and sprinted for the door. I didn't wait to hear his reply.

One of the things I had liked about living in the city was the anonymity. I could walk by a hundred people in one day, and chances were that not a single one of them would know me, at least not well enough to feel comfortable saying hi. On the other hand, that was one of the most isolating aspects of urban living. The reality of being lonely in a crowd was ugly, but undeniable, and in a sense, it was this suffering in lonely silence – paralyzed by the idea of talking to your fellow man – that destroyed communities, unmade them. I had to acknowledge my one small victory, which was talking to Pierre. I could check him off my list. Although our first meeting had not gone entirely well, it was a step in the right direction, and I felt an adrenaline rush kick in. Socialization had been rewarding. I was becoming a part of the community.

By the end of the day, I had met everybody who lived right in town: Sam, Jodi, Vincent, Haley, Emily, Gus, Clint, Alex, George, Evelyn, Pierre, Caroline, Abigail, Harvey, Pam – the bus driver from my nightmares – and Penny. In the evening, I had hit the Stardrop Saloon and met even more people: Shane, Leah, Elliott. My head swam with all of their names, and I had made a note to fill out my checklist with basic sketches of them. Had all of them been pleasant? Goodness, no, but at least they had all introduced themselves and exchanged a few words with me. I had talked to more people tonight than I had in the last week of my time in the city.

There were a surprising number of people around my age living here, and I realized that there was a real potential that I could have friends here. I had had friends in Zuzu City when I was younger, but virtually all of them had moved away to bigger cities and we hadn't kept in touch. I recalled sitting at my computer, cursor poised to click a name in my instant messenger, but never following through. Socialization was a tricky thing sometimes.

It was 11:00pm by the time I was back on my farm and done planting my new seeds. The moon was out, casting a magnificent glow on everything, and the air was still. I knew that I should go inside and rest up for tomorrow, but the quietude was beautiful and boundless. I felt the wilderness seep into me, from the rustling of grass in the wind, to the chirps of nighttime creatures. I took a deep breath. This was what it was all about. Today had been a fine day.