Going Home

It took me awhile to feel at home in DC, to find my bearings, to feel comfortable, to make friends. As soon as I moved I started exploring and immediately loved the District – the clean Metro, the endless greenery, the wine shop in our neighborhood, the unbelievable culture (free! all free!) that I could walk to – but it felt for a long time like a rather delightful vacation that slowly sank into home. I was prepared for the same thing to happen this time, and tried hard to steal myself against the rootlessness that would surely come.

So it’s been quite a shock to me that since I’ve been back in the District (a scant three weeks after I left it), I keep texting Steve the same thing – I can’t wait to come home - and I don’t just mean to him, I mean to our cottage and our coffee shop and my bike and my strawberries and my office and the tiny beautiful life we’ve built there in such a short time.

I mean to California.