Second move in 16 months. The apartment was a lifesaver. "A clean well lighted place". Safe and close to my girls. It was a soft landing pad. A fact I will forever appreciate. It was temporary. I never thought of it as anything else. Now this new old house.... Maybe not so temporary. I hesitate to say I will be staying here for a long time. My life, after all, is a case study in un-intentional living. I can see myself here, sort of, in a strange Zen-letting go-kind of way. Get the place all done up nice. Maybe reclaim the garden. Maybe (I can't believe I am even saying this) a dog at some point. I could easily give myself twenty years worth of projects. But this is a strange place. I am the "stranger in a strange land" in the sense that I have no connexion to this area - except that I have lived in this berg for over ten years. But ten years is nothing when you have kids. Ten years is just running and working and trying to keep up with birthdays and events and mile stones. Ten years is a vehicle used up. A third of a mortgage. Ten years during the high impact years of raising kids is like a month to a seven year old in summer. I don't belong here any more than I belong anywhere. I just belong where my girls are. And by ten thousand convoluted circumstances and strange decisions, they are here. We are here. So be it. I am, for better or worse, here now. And under the circumstances, learning to embrace being here now is as good a practice as I can endeavor. So, my intentions are, (formulating), to live as much in the present, in this place, under these circumstances, as best I can. Using what where-with-all I have to create and build as beautiful a live as I can.