Once a month, whether you need it or not, blog post. On finding home.

I went for a walk tonight to the Plaid Pantry (the scariest corner store ever, even in our benign neighborhood) to get some Tums. I dont want to get too into it, but let's just say that eating half your weight in Kettle Korn is never going to go well, no matter what other manner of fun (parade! brats for lunch! pool time! baseball game! fireworks!) goes on.

I havent had the need for this particular product since I was pregnant with Eli, when I used to pop them like candy. At that time, we lived in a tiny, noisy apartment, and the building manager was pregnant, too and one time she gave me her last Tums ("This is my LAST ONE" she told me) at, like, 11 at night when I asked her for it. I'll probably never see her again, but I'll always be grateful for that Tums.

As I walked back past a couple rows of apartment buildings, I listened to a particularly melancholy shuffle on the iPhone (honestly, how anyone can call THREE Sufjan Stephens songs in 20 minutes "random" is beyond me) that included Nanci Griffith's version of I Cant Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound and I remembered how I used to push baby E's stroller around and look intently at the neighborhood houses when we lived in that little apartment and be certain I'd never ever ever feel settled anywhere.

Friends tell me sometimes that they have that feeling, and I have so much compassion for it. I remember that sort of panicked resentment that comes from feeling that things arent quite worked out yet. So tell me if you feel that way, and I'll give you a hug and Tums. And I'll tell you, one day it is totally possible be on the other side of this. I am living proof.