What You Left Behind

I stood in a sunny nook in an empty house today, thinking about living in it. We've made an offer on this house, and it could be my new home in less than a month, likely *will* be in just a few short weeks. 

Things have changed. Three years ago, I closed on another house, but it wasn't like this one will be. Back then, it was a half-measure, a pause in time, a condo more than a house, an apartment with perks. It was a gesture meant to stop the hemorrhaging flow in my life.

Now, it's different. This is a real house, a big house, a house with a yard and a garage and real trees -- big trees -- with windows all around and no wall shared with strangers. I'm at a place in my life that I thought I might never reach -- a job I actually like with a company I can actually stand, and things are finally settling down. I can stop wandering. I can stop longing. I can stop wishing for peace and actually find it. Maybe I'll find it in that sunny nook. 

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The title of today's post comes from Kiran Desai, author of "The Inheritance of Loss."

— 'The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.'