For the present.
Where I live now is much like the small town where I lived for over twenty years before moving to “the big city” in 2011: small town surrounded by countryside, and just a short distance to the city.
I’ll take small-town traffic over big-city congestion any day.
The family is still settling in on the main floor, and I’m trading basement digs for an attic room. Sunshine!
In the past year and a half, I’ve crossed a lot of bridges. I left a long-time job, a comfortable house, my parents in the same town, friends nearby, familiar surroundings, and learned to live differently with family members who don’t always know the value of solitude and quiet, or who need help at the least opportune times. I’ll admit it freely: there are moments I miss living alone.
And yet I don’t regret that bridge.
Some bridges you cross in order to leave the past behind.
Some bridges you cross because of what awaits on the other side.
Several days ago, after working twenty-four hours to gather the last of the belongings and load moving trucks, and then only getting three hours of sleep before Littlest demanded attention, I fed her then sat with her on the couch in a borrowed house. She played with a handful of toys and chattered non-stop, much of it nonsense, then stopped, leaned over and hugged my arm, and said, quite clearly in her sweet little voice, “Keanan makes everything better.”
Who wouldn’t cross a bridge or two for that?