We moved here, to our little place in Berkeley, in mid-September. It was a hard time to move. Fall, that time of buckling-down, was in full swing. School was in session; daycares were full; people were busy. The light was slipping away on a daily basis. By the time we had unpacked our boxes and taken a deep breath, our evening walks were dark and solitary excursions. Elan charged up neighbors’ porches to examine their Halloween pumpkins, and I let him, hoping to rustle up some adult conversation in my newly insular world, shell-shocked by the loneliness of no mama-friends and Mikhail away all day working in the city.

Winter passed in a blur of perma-illness. I won’t bore you with the list again. I knew that I loved Berkeley, once upon a time when we lived here B.C. (before child). I trusted that I might like it again. But I didn’t. Not yet.
And now it is spring. Either my luck has changed or the daily handfuls of ridiculously expensive immune boosters are working. Mikhail and I are healing from our various ailments and regaining our strength. Elan is still coughing, but everyday a little less. The Japanese maple tree in our little yard is covered in tender little green leaves. Asparagus has made its debut at the farmer’s market, and I am so happy to see it.
Today I took a yoga class, something I have not done in months. It was warm and close in the room, full to bursting with UC students about to go on spring break. My intention for the class was flow. And I felt it. The sap running. Blood coursing. Ahhhhhh. Spring, you have come to save me.
Neighbors are appearing at the park, where suddenly it seems I know people. How did it happen? Little by little by little. This making a new life – it builds slowly, each bit appearing to not influence any other bit, as you slog through, until suddenly, like a river come alive from drought, the process takes on a life of its own, and boom – you’re in the flow. 
With Elan in bed and Mikhail at soccer, I sat out on our balcony and ate asparagus pizza from Cheeseboard. It was just past sunset, and the birds were singing riotous Friday evening songs. And I thought: I like it here.