Leaving the Hills Behind

Eureka Springs was an experience, and I do not mean that as either an insult or a compliment. Andrea found something there that I never really did. She liked the quiet, the hills, the slower pace, and the strange little world Eureka creates around itself. I could appreciate parts of it, but I never felt settled there. It always felt temporary to me, almost like I was waiting for whatever came next without knowing exactly what that was going to be.

Eventually, what came next was moving back to the city, although the actual process of getting here apparently required sacrificing one of my knees. Somewhere between carrying, lifting, climbing, walking, and generally behaving like I was younger than I am, my knee finally objected. The doctor called it overuse, which is a polite medical way of saying I did too much and my body filed a complaint. So while the boxes accumulated and everything around me needed to be unpacked, arranged, fixed, or moved again, I spent a couple of weeks being remarkably useless.

The new house already feels different, though. It is brighter, more open, and much more connected to the way I actually live. There are things happening around us, places to go, people nearby, and enough activity that I no longer feel like I have to plan an expedition every time I leave the driveway. Andrea has handled more than her share while I have been limping around, and we are slowly turning a house full of boxes into something that actually belongs to us.

I do not regret Eureka Springs because I do not believe every place you live has to become home to have been worthwhile. Andrea loved parts of it that I never understood, and I probably appreciated things she could have happily done without. That is marriage. Two people can stand in exactly the same place and experience it completely differently without either one being wrong.

For me, leaving was the right decision. I feel more connected here, more interested in what is around me, and considerably more capable of imagining what comes next. The knee will eventually quit being dramatic, the boxes will disappear, and life will settle into whatever shape we decide to give it.

For the first time in a while, I am not waiting to leave where I am.