This past Thursday, Landon and I celebrated our unofficial six year anniversary. We had long-standing plans to get some portable speakers for the iPod, but things were a little too hectic last week to make that happen. Instead, we celebrated by doing what we like to do best when the weather’s dry–sticking things into the ground. We planted two fig trees that had, much like Landon and I, started their lives together in Philadelphia.
Sometimes, I’m almost overwhelmed by how much I miss living in Philly. I’m overwhelmed by the magnitude of our decision to move here. In those moments, I want to tear up the onion bed with my teeth and pour sugar into the tractor’s gas tank.
But then I remember to breathe. I remember my first summer in Philly–the misery of the heat and the unemployment and the strange faces and strange places. I remember questioning nearly every decision I had made over the last 5 years (with the exception of my decision to kiss Landon).
I also remember the thrill of making that first friend in a new place (here’s to you, Sarah Hunter!) and the joy of discovering the coldest place to grab a pint on a hot summer night. I remember finding just the right place to store my bike helmet and finding just the right record for a Sunday morning.
I remember that building a new life takes time. I remember that it happens in those small moments when you’re not even paying attention. I remember that it’s two cats in a windowsill and and two fig trees in the ground.