Home(s)

The Trailhead

Many of the homes I’ve lived in, over the time I spent in them, came to be invested with a lot of emotional significance. Home and place are sensitive concepts for me. When I love a home, I have a lot of sadness — more than is perhaps entirely proportional — moving out of it. When I don’t love a home, I don’t. When I love a home, I can’t drive by it or go back to it for a long time after. I sold the home I had when my son was born, a walkout ranch tucked into a small neighborhood off Indianapolis’ Michigan Road, twelve years ago.  It was the first home I owned, and it sat on an acre overlooking Crooked Creek, and had 1100 square feet of two-story deck from which I could take in the nature preserve. When my ex-husband and I moved to Portland…

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