it used to be a lot easier driving away from edison. in those days, i still called portland home, and considered my transient stays in the morrison lumber building like a camping style vacation from my normal city life. it was in those days i would sometimes tote my cat grey back and forth with me, meowing objectionably like a broken record in the passenger seat, because i was never in either place for more than two weeks at a time. i had two closets, two sets of silverware, and two personalities. the duality of my life was completely exhausting; leaving my husband to wrangle the inclement weather and woodstoves and weekend warriors by his lonesome, i never felt so off balance. i was never really positive that edison was my place, or the place for me. how could it possibly be? and so i drove away, again and again, just to make sure.
these days, it's damn near impossible to leave. this place, which was once just a cold drafty barn with spiders and cobwebs, has transformed. this podunk town has changed too. or is it i that have changed? walking home from tuesday night knit night with the ladies, dreading driving away again tomorrow, i was simultaneously falling in love with my tiny town all over again, falling in love like it was the first time, feeling sentimental for the community that has grown around me. here, i am home.