Thirteen years ago today I signed a lease on this house, and I’ve been here ever since. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I lived with my parents growing up in Perrysburg, Ohio. Just the other day the landlord stopped by and offered another year, which I’m taking, and planning to save up enough to buy it outright.
By my rough count, I’ve lived at twenty different addresses since leaving home in 1971, ranging from an apartment in an urban center (Minneapolis) to a house in the woods (Frankfort, Michigan). But this house aside a canal in suburban Miami is ideal for me: big enough to share it with a housemate, but not too big that keeping it up is a burden. The neighborhood is quiet, it’s close to shopping, but far enough out of the city that I can hear owls in the woods… and the feral peacocks. My orchids like it, I have a place for the cars, and when it’s nice in the winter, the patio is a welcome spot for reading.
It’s good to be home.