The nice thing about semi-employment is you can go to the beach on a Tuesday, if you want. You will be there with the high school kids and the housewives and the elderly an the rich, but if you want, you can go.
Tara and I went up to Singing Beach and sweated out the horizon in front of the muddy waves. I love the New England beaches. These rocky boat-docking Ahab beaches, warm only five months a year. I look over and realize that Tara, like Alana, like so many people I've met here, has almost instantly become one of the best friends I've ever had. I mention this, and look up at the sky and out at the perfect beach, the perfect ocean, and I may also mention how comfortable and happy I am in New England, how much I love the people and the cities and the nature and the landscape and the restaurants and the bars, how challenged and fulfilled I feel here, and how no where I've ever been has felt so much like home to me.
And this, itself, is terrifying, but feels good, nonetheless. I don't know how to be comfortable. For one who always pictured herself a rambler and decided to pick up and move, pick up and move, to go and go and never stop, maybe it's okay to find a place you want to be for a while, and people you want to weave into your nest.