It’s been eleven years since I’ve been blogging here (actually, that happened on the 21st of this month). These days, the blogging is very infrequent, which is why it would be silly to celebrate said milestone.
However, my life changed when I moved here, ten years and one day ago. That is a milestone worth celebrating.
Ten years and one day ago, I saw the at-the-time underwhelming yet overwhelming sights.
Ten years and one day ago, I thought I’d surely die in the 45-degree weather. #notyetsnowmaggeddoned
Ten years and one day ago, I didn’t know cherry blossoms could age you in reverse.
Ten years and one day ago, I didn’t know the meaning of rooting for the underdog –truly, madly, deeply. All-in.
Ten years and one day ago, I didn’t know this city of excess and lack, and of beauty and ugliness, was the underdoggiest of all.
Ten years and one day ago, means nothing in the larger scheme of things. It is a tiny mica-flecked speck of nothing. And yet, to the baby in arms to whom I narrated all the sights that greeted us from the gray cab that day –from the sleek lines at Dulles to the steady rust-gray of the TR Bridge to the beating heart that opened up to us as we moved east on Constitution and then south onto Massachusetts Avenue– it’s his entire life.
I could go on, but I won’t– for now. The happiness and the gratitude fill my heart. I couldn’t have asked for a better –harder, tougher, more demanding, more awe-inspiring ten years.
And one day.