I don’t remember her source, but a classmate once told me it takes about 2.5 years to cross the threshold toward feeling settled in a new place. She’s already lived in many places, so I trusted what she said. But I shook it off at the time. I wouldn’t be here that long anyway.
She was right, I guess. Rapidly approaching the three-year mark, lately I’ve been noticing that things do feel different. Maybe it’s the job and a second family of sorts. Or maybe it’s not being so/as lost in conversation. Probably it has a bit to do with Karl and I having a place of our own. But the main force, I believe, is seeing other people.
No, not in the way associated with Swedish sexual liberation. Not like that.