We’ve been going through this muddled, intense period as a family for a little bit, so I guess it’s natural that I completely forgot that we’ve been living here in DC for six months.
Six whole months. Half a year.
It doesn’t feel like it was so long ago that the whole city was ready to kick off its collective galoshes and no conversation was complete without a play-by-play of just how the cherry trees were coming along.
“Do you think they’ll bloom early?”
“I saw them this morning; I don’t think they’ll make it to the parade”
“Really? I think that you must have seen some south-facing trees: they will bloom in late April, I think.”
It seems like so long ago since we took the cabdrive of doom that deposited us in our little nook of DC. Everything looked so big and far away and unfamiliar. Our nomadic life showed no signs of going away. The air had a bite to it. The maps looked blank and unfeeling, riddled with new names to remember –though mercifully there was a welcome paucity of Ks.
There are still pockets with a lack of information for all of us–notably the Meow– but the DC grid is slowly starting to take a rich life of its own in my mind. The map is no longer foreign and hollow: the streets surge out of the page or the screen, suddenly alive with small or bigger memories of places I feel more my own.
Where does the time go? When does familiarity settle in and newness fade?
Happy half ann’y to us!