Home.

I’m home. I’m finally home. The thought of leaving this neighborhood is almost as painful for me as the thought of leaving this city. I know it would be good. Exciting. Worthwhile. I know it would broaden my perspective of what life here is. But this is home. Finally.

This is the longest I’ve lived anywhere in Portland. When I first moved here it was Glisan in NW. The sound of shopping carts at night, street fights, the sound of last call. It was nice to be so close to the action. A short ride or streetcar hop away from downtown. A different kind of culture. A different kind of people. Four star restaurants, hip coffee joints, museums, art shows.

But as we roll into this part of town it’s like stepping into a cool shower in summer. We’ve been to every corner, every crevice. The people know us and we know them. The movie theater, the cafe, the grocery store. The park that’s seen sweat and tears in equal proportions. The bike shop slapped into the middle of it all and some landmark of what we’ve all given to be here in some way or another.

And even my apartment, the downfalls it does have. I’d love a washing machine. I’d love a dryer. I’d love hardwood floors and a rug on top that I could sprawl out on. I’d love room for bikes. Maybe a bike room. I’d love a painted wall and new art. I’d love a new bedframe, I’d love a real-big-adult-couch. But for this point in my life, right now, I don’t need anything else than this. Just right now. Just this little short moment. I have everything I need. And I’m home.

 

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