We left, grabbing a quick bite before I deposited her for her appointment and returned home. As I arrived, I noted the street sweeper, and hurried inside to alert my housemate lest she get ticketed. We passed in the hallway, and she moved her car in time. A few minutes later, I heard the sweeper pass.
Having swapped the car for the bike, I recrossed the city for the third time of the morning. The traffic light at the historic Northern Artery changed just as I arrived, ensuring I didn't need to stare at that particular ugly gash across my otherwise attractive neighborhood for long.
The light of the day had replaced the gloom of the weekend, and I basked in the brief ride. Shortly, I dodged off to a side street, crossed another, and then descended to the multiuse path that replaced a long-disused railroad.
A well-dressed group of folks who I guessed might be looking to buy a new place to live stepped aside to let me access the ramp. As they did, I realized the safety orange of my underthings might be showing: the low seat of my recumbent pointed my midsection at the world, far too easily. On the trail, a child mumbled something to their caretaker, and I heard "Yes, she *is* sitting!" as I passed. I smiled.
The ride ended just as quickly as it had started, and I locked the bike outside my usual cafe work spot. One of the other regulars took a moment to chat with me, and we groused about the scaffold over the front that was appearing. Then I went inside, depositing my stuff before collecting a mug of tea. "Hi Daria. Blue crane tea?", I was greeted.
I've found myself right integrating well with my environs, learning the backstory and quirks, meeting the people, and exploring the manifold new options as I go about my life. I've perhaps found myself, inadvertantly, in the midst of a place well-suited for my life, and I hope I can give back and make it the same for others.
I am Somerville. This is home.