Subterranean Homesick Blues

When I was a kid, we moved all the time, and I noticed, well into adulthood, that I simply expected everything in my life to change every three years. Long after I left Mom & Dad's, I kept moving.

Until we ended up in this house. Lynn moved into this house on December 13, 1994. I was in the hospital having surgery that day, so I moved in a week or so later.

Eleven years. That's twice as long as either one of us had ever lived anywhere, and it is, no doubt about it, at least four times longer than we should have stayed.

With only a week left to go in Arizona, I'm having those inevitable departure thoughts. What, other than family and friends, will I miss about the place? Yesterday, walking the dog in the park (lots of healthy coyote poop everywhere), I looked across at the zoo and was sad because I won't have a chance to go there again. I really like the rhinos and anteaters.

Saguaros in bloom. The way the light hits the red mountains some days. There's a restaurant, up near the bookstore where I used to work, that has incredible cheese steaks.

But that's about it.

Clearly, eleven years was much, much too long.