Leaving a proverbial breadcrumb trail

I've been trying to ignore it, but I'm feeling pretty dislocated lately. New job, new commute, new and sometimes painfully unfamiliar work culture. I have to prove myself to people I'm not really sure how to please. I have to keep my cynicism, and sometimes my entire personality, in check. I have to eat in front of strangers.

So I've been noticing more than usual the relief of being home, that inner calm that settles when you land in a place of certainty.

This morning it was the online movie listings for the local $3 theater. What the?, I thought: He's Just Not that Into You? Doubt? Revolutionary Road? Since when do a new release and two "artsy" movies end up at the Logan at the very same time? Sure enough, I made my way backwards and found I'd clicked the wrong link altogether. Ah, there it was: Twilight, Bedtime Stories, Benjamin Button, and Hotel for Dogs. The very craptacular sampler plate I've come to expect at my local theater. But when you get to those movies, they always start on time. There's never a preview and never an ad. And the popcorn's just $2 a bag. Just like that, the earth was back on its axis.

Tonight it was getting dinner ready and hearing three chimes of the doorbell in quick succession. 'That's Priscilla Borja's ring,' I thought. Sure enough, there she was, offering up Valentine cupcakes with her standard 10-year-old panache.

With the full knowledge that we Americans, more than many, get to take these things for granted, I'd like to thank my house, my neighborhood, the good people who live nearby, the children and dogs of those excellent people, the bicyles and the streetlights, and the very sidewalk I walk on, for being there when I get home.