Goodness me, I am so happy.
I know, I've said that a lot lately. But I really, really am.
I just wrote a letter this morning, to a friend from Cannon Beach, and for a moment -- as I was picturing her walking down to that sweet little shingle-covered post office, with her hair being blown around her face with a chilly ocean-scented breeze under the brilliant sun -- I missed living on the coast. I missed the ocean, and the beach, and the never-changing in and out of the tides.
But! I am now living in the best and brightest, most hip and happening neighborhood in the city, and paying less for it than I paid for a place in the dullest and deadest backwater suburb of them all. I am surrounded by buzz and cheer and people's voices, by laughter and visiting and freshly-brewed coffee, by books and newspapers available everywhere, restaurants of every description absolutely clogging up the sidewalks, and more people than anyone could count. I am home, and safe, and free and myself again. I can walk to anywhere I want to go -- and will be, I promise you! This weekend I am not going to allow myself to be lazy in the apartment, or get busy in Beaverton -- I am going to walk around the neighborhood, and see what is still there (Besaws!) and what is new (The Matador!) and I am going to sit outside at least one place sipping coffee and people watching.
Man, I need a laptop! But someday. For now, I will just write with a pen on a notebook page.
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