Moving is a strange and confusing process. Returning to Seattle after my weeks of house hunting was like stepping into a mirage. I know I won't be here much longer -- not relative to the time I expect to spend in the house we're buying in Eugene. And, yet, this is the place I've lived for years. That house, I've been inside three times. So, the permanent feels impermanent. The transitory... solid.

And then there's Elaine's perspective. She spent the last two weeks asking to "go home." Of course, I've been explaining everything to her -- buying a new house, staying with Grandma, coming back to Seattle to pack... but it's all lost on a not-quite-two-year-old. Given how much she's asked to "go home," I thought she'd be really excited when we got back here. But, no. After an hour or so of enjoying all the toys we'd left up here, she went to the front door and declared, "Go home, see June." I had to show her videos of other greyhounds on youtube to calm her down enough to go to bed.

She's right though. Grandma's house (despite having June) isn't home. This isn't home (especially since the cats have already moved to Oregon). But Elaine won't recognize our new house as home either. That will take time. For me, though, I'm not so sure it will. To a certain extent, I've been living in that house for years... I just didn't know quite where it was or exactly what it looked like. Now I do, and I find that very peaceful.