It is said that it takes ten years of living in a place to really get to know it. That being the case, I have never really known a place. But now, here in my beautiful cottage in NE Portland, I am getting the chance.
Today I made my way to the fish market, talked with David the owner, bought some trout and oysters then headed over to a lockssmith(which I never found). I wandered the twenty or so blocks back to my house, walking where I’ve walked so many times before. I am coming to know these houses and streets. I know the dogs certainly, and which side of the street I must walk on if I am with Luka.
A trip to the post office this morning had me talking with neighbors and petting a new puppy. Kids were setting up a lemonade stand, and two women waved at me from their driveway, a garage sale underway. I have everything here that I thought living in the country would bring me, but never seemed to. Proximity and intimacy, and the simplicity of everyday.
This evening as I mowed and cleaned up the strip of weeds along my walk, I met my neighbor Chris. She admires the unruliness of my yard. And I hers. She lives in the house one block down on the corner, a cool door leads off the top floor to the porch roof. We talked about the bravado of the squirrels and our love of this neighborhood, and the ocean like sound of the freeway.
I am so glad to live here. I love my home and the life I am making. And I love those with whom I get to spend my days.