three weeks

Three weeks?
For three weeks, I've thought about writing, every day. 
And every day, I haven't.
This writing, it's not as easy as riding a bike.

In three weeks, we traveled almost 1200 miles nearly straight north.  And then we turned around and did it again pointed south.  We drove up to that place that I never-ever imagined I'd like, let alone love. We saw the dirt and brush of south Texas turn into the green fields of the Midwest turn into just barely spring of Nebraska.

My husband did the hard work, the arranging and planning and details of making the arrangements to get our stuff from storage to the border.  I had the easy part, meeting friends for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and ice tea, and coffee.  Catching up.  Sharing surprises.  Laughing plenty.  Crying too.  And at the end of ten days, it was just as hard to leave as it has been before, but that's good because it means we have been blessed.  Abundantly so.

Now we're in the new place, and slowly finding order. Boxes full of random things remain. When you lose your attic and basement and front door closet, I suppose that happens. I found a library in walking distance. And a grocery store that has air conditioning so cold my fingers become numb.

I'm trying to figure out how to live in the this place that's not really like north of here, but not really like south of here, either. Can a gringo speak Spanish to Spanish speakers in the US when you know that they speak English too?  How do I reconcile the poverty just miles from my door with service? What's help? What's harm? Where do we worship? And where is the post office?

Yes, in a new place, and still, prone to wander.
Blessings!