One week shy of a year
The sky above our yard is alive with dragonflies and chimney swallows and warm rain falling in a curtain straight down, and I never expected to be eating rain-washed raspberries in the South Side of Chicago.
In a week, one year after our nervous arrival, we move 7 blocks north, out of this 117-yr-old greystone into something spanking new by comparison, and ours to do with what we will.
I will miss the kind, generous, welcoming neighbors we now cherish as friends, the berries in fall, the shops and park around the corner, and one glorious kitchen. But I am digging up the Katherine Hodgkin irises that I didn’t kill after all in the move, and going to prepare a spot for them, and us, to set down new roots.