It has been a long few days of moving–this time not from one part of the country to another, but from one neighborhood to another. We’re surrounded by boxes, but are ensconced in the new digs–a whole entire house, just for us and the cats–with plenty of room to move around. This is the biggest place I’ve lived in since I left Boise in 1993, and the first easy-to-reach table and chair I’ve had the pleasure of breakfasting at since 2006. I’m not the best with change, in spite of having it as a near-constant, but this one’s going to be good, and it’s settling down, slowly and in fits and starts. The neighborhood is new, and that means a new commute, adding a bit more than a mile to trips heading downtown. Today was my first beyond Mount Vernon–to Federal Hill for an afternoon with A. and her sweet baby girl. I’m still stuck in that sense, as I pass 27th Street, that if I still lived there, this would be my starting point. It’s a bit of a mind trick, especially on the way home, to not secretly, in a very tiny way, wish I didn’t have another mile + to go up the hill. I was inexplicably tired today, and my legs felt heavy heavy as I headed back up the hill to home, but I just settled into the seat, reminded myself that I wasn’t in a hurry, and pulled out my how-you-doin’s for what turned out to be a lovely ride home and a nice chance to get my eyes back out of the navel of my transition and into the world again. That meant I got to see a single sunflower over the side of the Fallsway bike path, on a ledge over the parking lot below, and next to it a black and white cat just lounging and taking a leisurely bath. I stopped just past the parking lot that is also a bike lane to snap this picture of the empty lot that is where several old row homes used to be. I remember my first ride up this way. The bike lane didn’t take you through the parking lot, so I just went the way cars went–a right into the left turn lane, a left and then another left back onto Guilford. A driver yelled at me to take the sidewalk, and I was all salty back: “I BELONG IN TRAFFIC!” But now look–now I’m supposed to be in the parking lot, and those houses that used to be there, well, they’re not there anymore, and it seems already like it has always been that way. And this new commute will get that way, too. Another mile and a half and I was stopping at the new grocery store for the old shopping list, and just a few more blocks to home.