You Can Go Home Again
I guess I’ve been busy for the last, oh, seven years. Can’t believe this blog has been idle that long.
Anyway, we got hubby’s Green Card and moved home to Boulder, CO. Back home where we both belong. We bought a house in a neighborhood we’ve wanted to live in since we got married. We can see Long’s Peak from the front porch swing. We can be in Boulder’s endless open space with a 2 block walk. Now we do winter, and we no longer die from being too hot and humid all the time. We joined our old gym, which came conveniently loaded with lots of old friends. We shop in our old stores, drive roads we’ve known for years, see random people we remember from forever ago.
I may no longer be nomadic.
It’s almost stunning how easy it was to come home. And it’s also similarly stunning how little I miss Mexico. I miss people in Mexico, I miss that tight got-yer-back expat community, but don’t miss how catty we’d get, how inbred it could seem, like we were in a fishbowl swimming around and around. No fishbowl anymore. I worry about Mexico, I watch the news, and worry, a lot.
I sometimes miss being able to pick fruit in the park. I never miss needing to pick up garbage in the park. Litter is rare here, because people don’t throw it, and because we have garbage cans, bear-proof garbage cans. We even had a bear once.
I love being home.
