I have moved at least once every year since 2006. It was a very special feeling when we opened the door to our overheated, musty apartment at 2AM last Thursday to find it just as we left it. We were not returning just to pack up, nor were we arriving to an empty place and a future of unpacking, furniture moving, and food scrambling. Food was ready in the freezer and the cupboards, the only unpacking was the single bag we shared on our trip, and the bed was made.
Having spent two weeks visiting family, returning to a place that was mine was incredible. Returning to routines that I know take care of me has been overwhelmingly beautiful. It's all very simple, and it's still too hot and still too loud and still too ... Cincinnati, but this little corner of it is adapted to me and my needs. I never fully understood the impact of constant moving (although I suspected) until I came home.
I feel split constantly -- here I have a home and my partner and a space to live my life, but in Oregon I have trees and unnoticed unshaven legs and trees and Yumm sauce (and trees) . While visiting Oregon, I realized just how much I feel like a fish out of water in Ohio. Some day I hope to make a space for myself, with these trees looking out over me, keeping me safe. But for now, I'm content to heal from the exhaustion of the trip in my own space, with memories of friendly trees. I hope to be active again on this blog soon, but please forgive me if I take some time and silence while I appreciate the simplicity of living a quiet life that's all my own (if somewhat lacking in trees).