It's raining in Baltimore.
Nothing like waking up in a place that feels like home to the sound of rain on the roof, a cool breeze fluttering the curtains and a warm dog body next to you. It is, of course, still far too early to rise, but I do anyway and make my way down creaky wooden stairs to let the dogs out the back and have some coffee.
Today is the American Visionary Museum and some shopping in Hampden. This is our second day in Baltimore, and we couldn't be in a better place right now. Sicily is on Zillow searching foreclosures, rentals and other housing options, talking about when we'll be moving as we walk down the street eating sweet corn ice cream from the local veggie-based ice cream shop.
It's too hard to explain why picking up and moving would be so difficult, especially since we feel so contented in Baltimore, instantly. We have friends and community built into this place, friends and family who have known us both since birth. We don't face the shadow of Dane in every corner up here; it is easier to consider him from a distance. Present, but still much less painful.
Many people have commented about us running away, and I think that doesn't quite give me enough credit these days. In the past, I have been the consummate flee-er. Commitment-phobic. I moved every six months from age 17-24. I lived in New York, Frederick, Baltimore, North Carolina and Colorado. I am prone to long road trips with no direction. I was trying on different places to see what fit. Seattle fit best, then I met Dane, who became my home (ask me the story some time if I haven't told you; it's a pretty good one and an illustration of fate and the perils of buying a car from one of those lots with the flags fluttering, the buy-here-pay-here kind of lots), and we settled in Georgia for family reasons.
Now Sicily and I are building a home on wheels (fitting) and are on the road for five weeks, exploring and thinking hard about life (ibid). The extent to which I do not care at all about what people think of me is pretty astonishing, and liberating at the same time, but I am still trying to be a responsible adult (which is a huge drag, frankly). We have commitments in Georgia that we will honor. We have a community there who buoyed us up when the tide swept us out to sea those blurry first five weeks. We are grateful to our friends in the south.
But still. It's raining in Baltimore, and H&S is making raisin bread, and there is free yoga in the Inner Harbor this morning. The Sunday paper just thumped up onto the porch, and it's time to rise and shine The Child and get ready to start the day, Hon-style.
Easy like Sunday morning.