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I am apparently inclined toward cross-county moves.  I can’t say this is unexpected, and I can’t say it is expected either.  See, I never pictured where I would live after college.  I guess leaving the town I fell in love with and lived with for four years sounded unimaginable.  How could it be that the football tailgates and filled student planners and after-the-bar mac and cheese would ever end?  It’s like picturing your next boyfriend when you’re still with the current one.

And so now here I am, a complete tourist plopped into one of the largest cities in the U.S. which everyone kind of adorably calls a “town.”  Welcome to Boston.  Where drivers are crazy, streets are an enigma, and parking is an art and a science.

I’ve heard  “it’s a great town” from just about everyone I know, but I have to wonder, how long until it’s my town?  Not just until I can find my way to the grocery store or the closest ice cream place, but until it feels like my grocery store and my ice cream place.

Certainly not all those who wander are lost, but I’d prefer not to wander too far from home.

As it turns out,  I’ll just make that home wherever I want.

Excuse me while I go memorize the produce section of Whole Foods.

(Image courtesy of Masahiro Ihara via Flickr)

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