Plucky and spirited nearly all the time, baby bear has kept me from going off the deep end. “What’s this?” she asks frequently as her tiny digit points to whatever she is inquiring about. Her nonchalance to our situation and even courage and determination has inspired me. She is already acclimating to our drudgeries with our early to rise and late afternoon commutes as long as we are in motion. Once we slow to a halt or even below the speed limit, it’s not so considerate anymore. The boys had it more easy going without a sibling born nearly a decade before them; their early years didn’t involve a world of entrapment in a rear facing car seat for more than two hours a day and that doesn’t even involve extracurricular activities…I can’t even imagine! It has me thinking of maybe living in an mini Airstream so at least we can feel like we are in a cozy nest while we make our egregiously silly commutes.While I cannot understand some peoples’ mindset in this new city, nor how they can call it a salad when its components are unrecognizable slathered in mayonnaise or when sweet summer corn on the cob has been drowned in a pot of boiling water for most of the afternoon…I am embracing thoughtfulness and working on not brooding over meaninglessness. All this while questioning where our place will be…will we ever find our nest? Will that nest be blessed with nutrient rich soil for growing plump and juicy fruit like the tomatoes we savored this evening? Soon the last tomatoes will exit stage left just as the apples march in from stage right…I am dreaming of a bucolic countryside where I can pluck more luscious beauties next summer, where small victories like a bountiful growing season matter more than quibbling about having to bare the elements to wash our clothing in shared machines. I keep pattering away at numbers on the phone, arranging for new appointments with doctors only to hear that next available are months away. Why can’t the voice on the other end prescribe an open road that leads to open air, a place in the heart of the country where the holy roam where I can just let it all go and I will find my own way. A place where I can drop my ornery habits deep down a hole in the Earth, where I dip my toes in a cool spring and watch the rays that pierce through the floating clouds dance on the ripples of the water from my deck—You have to believe in something, right?