I've moved 17 times.
That's a lot. Yes, some of it includes college moves and crazy early 20's apartment living, but it still counts. Packing, unpacking, tossing and keeping. I always wanted to feel, in my digs, a sense of belonging and normalcy. That usually included a few key components. A dry cleaner: I need a familiar face when I drop off my blouses and ask them to pay some special attention to that spot on the right boob which there always seem to be many of. I was called 'Nips' in high school because in a completely unfair turn of events, an afternoon salad with Italian dressing made me look like a wet nurse. Fast forward 15 years later when I do indeed soak through my maternity shirts with the good stuff (I did consider ringing it out once, that stuff is liquid gold!).
Anyway, I liked having a mom and pop dry cleaner on the ready. And a library card. This was important. I love to read. Every night, I read. Even for it's 4 minutes. But I could get lost in libraries, often a spot to escape to when I was living with roommates (did I mention that I'm an only child and I. Like. My. Space.) and wanted to peruse the new Alice Hoffman or the latest Rolling Stone rag in a quiet little spot tucked between the mysteries and the large print sections. I could get lost for hours in a library. And I know that makes me a nerd, but it's cool. I've come to grips with my nerdiness. Nerdiness has served me well.
And what I always needed, no matter how brief my stay...was a place to walk. Of course I would have a variety of routes, depending on the time I had or the type of walk I needed. Is it a business walk meant for a workout only? The track will do. Is it a long walk kind of a day, with drop-ins to a downtown store (or perhaps to pick up my dry cleaning or hit the library?), I have a route for that too. Or maybe it's like the one I took Sunday. Long and lovely and sweeter than I imagined with a gentle wind at my back. I knew where the loud dogs would be, they didn't startle me when they jumped up against the gate. I knew where the guy from Ireland would be, waving to me and talking about the weather and how is daughter is in Quincy. I knew that I would see that lady I see all the time and we'd wave, and that we could repeat that for 20 years and still not know each other's names. And I remembered where that funny bump in the road was, and I hopped right over it. And I knew, as I came back around the way and my house came into view, that I really was home.
