Every day that the weather is nice enough, Fry and I go on a walk. These walks are usually between thirty and forty-five minutes, and I try to take a different route every time. In this manner, I've discovered neighborhoods I didn't know existed.
Stéph and I have decided that we want to eventually buy a home here in Tiny Town, so these walks give me the opportunity to daydream about where I'd like to live and what kind of home I'd want to live in. Plus, that means that Tiny Town will be Fry's hometown, so I imagine us throwing around the baseball as I push the stroller through the park, or imagine taking him to school as I pass the maternelle. Rumors are flying around that a public swimming pool is going to be built here, so I try to figure out where it's going to go.
In addition to my nearly daily walks, Stéph and I are taking advantage of having specialty stores within walking distance, not to mention an excellent restaurant or two, so that means I'm on smiling-and-waving terms with the butcher, the owner of the Moroccan restaurant and the woman that runs the garden shop (though she's the exception - I've been there once and she still says hello to me!).
I have resisted liking this place for so long, dreaming that we would eventually return to a larger city. The truth is, Stéph is very happy where he's teaching now, and the difference between now and our first year of marriage, when he had to commute forty-five minutes and had migraines three nights a week, are legion. But ever since Fry arrived, something just clicked. At last, after three years, Tiny Town is finally starting to feel like home.
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