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July 3, 2019

things i'll miss about bloomington

the three trails through town, partway lined with canopies of trees, partway gravel, stretching downtown and farther south, past an enormous field with horses, and then later the backyards of enormous houses

huge skies, clouds like brushstrokes — a wild canvas

when the winter frost fades and tiny shoots peel open, when the branches awake and everything swells with green, trees heavy with fruit and petals and young leaves

learning the flower seasons, and my favorite stretch of may when peonies burst open

walks to the farmer’s market and returning with armfuls of blooms

our favorite restaurant slash distillery with fragrant cocktails and unctuous slabs of sourdough

our second-favorite place with thin-crust pizza, blistered and chewy, where we get the same order every time because it’s the perfect pairing (pepperoni, sausage, peppadew + prosciutto, arugula, and grape)

the campus, where we met and were married, limestone buildings and swathes of green and a brook

the skylight in this house, our own little james turrell piece, where we can watch the color of the sky and the rain blossom against the glass

and this house, in general, tucked away in a small neighborhood, the caramel hardwood floors and the two-tone paint, the front windows framing the tree in our front yard, and the blessed central air

the quiet joyful emptiness of a university town during the summer, where things slow down

strangely, the Y here, as i’ve had an abundance of time to take classes and sample the different cardio machines and carve out a routine and start to undo the stasis of winter

the wonder of fresh, thick snow, watching it fall like magic, even though i don’t like what’s around it (the later sludge, ice, bitter cold, the naked arteries of branches)

the beloved public library, an open space, taking home giant sacks of books

the tiny crystals shop, where i’ve had meandering and fascinating conversations about astrological signs and bought too many crystals

the irish pub restaurant here, which j dislikes but i was fond of, with warm lighting and drinks and chicken wings and fried pickles and so many chats with friends

walking through downtown with a fudgy mudslide chocolate ice cream cone from the chocolatier

all my healthcare providers who really do radiate warmth and care, and i felt cared for every time we met

and our pharmacists, especially t, who took the time and energy to find me incredible discounts on my meds when i didn’t have insurance

the target, where i have spent hours wandering as therapy, the consideration of every object, and who i would buy things for

the winding drive to the state park, where we’ve had exhausting hikes and nearby amazing barbecue and once experienced a morel festival at arm’s length, watching people dance on stage wearing morel costumes

the bakehouse turned into j’s preferred fried chicken place, where they keep forgetting my side salad so j gives me his salad each time

the airport, which is never crowded

cardinals, ubiquitous

the deer, which in the summer run through neighborhoods and across streets and i know are a blight to gardeners but i feel there is some magic to them, loping, with speckled fawns

thunder, which can sound cataclysmic overhead, which i may not miss too much

summer, summer, summer

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