It’s been quiet around here for quite some time now. Facebook has absorbed a lot of the photos I used to post, which I’m hoping to change.
I’ve also been thinking a lot lately about the way I’ve referred to this place in the past, likening living in the northeast to being in exile. I’ve been here for 12 years, and increasingly I feel less exiled than expatriated. We visit the south regularly, and it’s oh so easy to slip back into the accent and the rhythms… but when we return to the north, I feel like I’m home. I’m hoping to have some more to say on that front – I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a place home, in part due to watching a friend adjust to a major move overseas. So, you know, stuff’s brewing. Like a good chicory coffee. Or a crawfish boil. (Okay, not a really great simile, but it gives me an excuse to post this):
Mission Bell (Amos Lee album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Oh, Amos Lee. You were there for me all those years ago when I moved out on my own and spent Valentine’s Day alone (I was actually with my best friend, and perfectly happy, but that’s hardly a compelling opener).