moving: final chapter (i live here now)

I realized today that I haven’t written on the topic of “moving” in a while. Over two months, in fact.

In large part, this is because I feel like I’m no longer in the process. I’m no longer “moving.” I “have moved.”  The experience is now in present perfect tense.

The apartment is settled.  Alexander and I have a routine.  I have more or less figured out the rail system.

I have work that keeps me both occupied and (more importantly) paid. I also enjoy it, which helps.

That work has introduced me to a number of fun and interesting people I genuinely look forward to seeing.

And, in perhaps they greatest development of all, there’s karaoke every Wednesday night at a bar five  minutes from my apartment.


I may not have Mother Bear’s pizza to comfort me on those cold, Midwestern nights.  Or the Bloomington Playwrights Project to poke my head into when my afternoon leaves me with a few minutes to spare. Or — most dishearteningly — an army of adolescents willing to feed our cats while we’re out of town.

But it’s home.  I feel home.



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