One year ago this evening, my tired children and I landed in Virginia. Accustomed to the San Francisco fog and the Northwest steel-grey skies, we walked out of the terminal at Dulles International into a nasty heatwave and swamplike humidity. I don’t remember a lot from those hectic and stressful days, but I do remember, clearly, all three children looking up at me as the first waves of thick steamy air hit with baffled confusion and horror. “What IS this, mom??” We were too tired to to anything but get to our place and crash, but I’ll never forget the scowling confusion at the cloudy skies that stayed HOT.
We’ve learned a few things in the ensuing year. First, folks like to visit here, and we’ve enjoyed a lot of friends and even family passing through. It’s a wonderful perk.
Virginia still doesn’t feel like home; will it ever? I don’t know- but then I don’t know how long we’ll be here, either. For now, it’s where we’re at, and despite Virginians not knowing how to drive (the California girl in me will say that about everywhere) we’re making the best of it. We’re doing alright.