I’m only moving a couple of miles, but it feels momentous. P is less thrilled, but I simply can’t wait. I’ll miss my morning view of the sun coming up over a bank of pine trees. I’ll miss my bathroom (it’s nothing special, but the new one isn’t great). I’ll miss controlling the heat for only my own apartment. I’ll miss not having to think about snow removal. But everything else will be orders of magnitude better. I hope.

I’ll finally feel free to invite my local friends over (more room, walking distance to everyone, no parking restrictions). I’ll be able to walk just a few blocks to everything I normally visit in town. I’ll have a gas stove, free laundry, and a basement for tornado season. I’ll have a little yard and a three-season porch. The cat will enjoy all the critters he’ll be able to see. Maybe we’ll get a bird feeder.

But more than looking forward to the change, something bigger is happening to me. It’s like I’ve finally decided to be a member of this community. I don’t know what took me so long. Maybe it’s that I’ve almost never lived anywhere as long as I’ve lived here. By the end of next year, I’ll be tied for the longest I’ve lived anywhere. I know that when I moved here I wasn’t planning to stay longer than 4 years. Maybe I’ve just been waiting to suddenly have to leave.

So I think I’ll subscribe to the local paper. I think I’ll finally start my tandem reading club.