Thursday, June 2, 2011

Love Story

Late in the day on Kelsey's birthday, we were finally united again as a family. Now, in the final round of chaos, Marissa and Greg work to settle in with the last of our things - mainly Marissa's things - while I work. There has been little time to worry over sightseeing and acclimating themselves to the very different world they now suddenly find themselves. Greg goes with Cheyenne and me on our daily walks, now deferred to the evenings in deference to the sudden heat that descended upon the area briefly, and in that way he gets to see the neighborhood a block or two at a time, but there is a whole city out there they have yet to experience. Like me when I first got here, my husband seems to be taking it in baby steps. Walking around the block at first, then a jaunt to the store, then a slightly longer jaunt to the Lowe's on McKnight Road (I practically lived on McKnight Road when I first got here - the commercial center of the north side where most of the mega-stores that we all know are, so there was a familiarity to it). Eventually maybe he'll want to stretch his wings a little and try something more adventurous, but for now, that seems to be where his limits are. Much like me at first. He'll move to the next step faster than I did, of that I have little doubt. For one thing, there are not winter roads to intimidate the Southern driver. For another, he's just bolder in that regard. But for now, he seems vaguely uneasy about it all, this very different world, and he stays in somewhat familiar territory. This morning, as we walked Cheyenne around the block as the day dawned around us, he asked me how long it took before I felt like I belonged. I thought about that and then decided I'm not entirely sure I feel that way still. I drawl like a Texan and can't find my way around to save my life. I'm not a full fledged 'Burgher yet, that's for sure.

But, I'll get there. And in short order, I think. The old skin is shedding off, and I'll be more comfortable in this one, I think. Trying to describe why is a bit hard. Not one to usually be at a loss for words, it's not really that I couldn't find the right words, but I couldn't be succinct enough to put it all in a reasonably short post. And, truthfully, the right words are a bit elusive. It's a sense of a place, it's sights and sounds and smells. It's things that bring back memories of childhood. It's looking out at the

giant maple in the backyard and remembering sitting under the shade of one very much like it during long ago summers reading tales of knights and round tables and realizing you might not be able to go home again, but you can find a new sense of home and rediscover once more the things that you loved. It's smelling lilac and sweet grass as you walk down the street. It's being able to actually walk down the street because the temperature is not at the century mark. It's watching ducks in your front yard and deer in your back, and realizing you didn't have to give up things green or furry to live within twenty minutes of world class museums and the sports teams you love (and I can find the stadium, thank you very much). It's having people be so friendly and accommodating that when someone isn't it actually is sort of surprising. It's waking up in the morning and looking around and thinking, "This feels right."

 Home is a feeling more than a place maybe. And feelings aren't always that easy to put into words. 

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