Update: Not ten minutes after I posted this, I got a phone call from my pal, Sally! While on the phone with Sal, I also got a text from my friend of 30+ years, Rhea.
So far, two years into this Texas experiment, life is going well. I must say, this second year turned out better than the first. It helps when nobody dies (much less three family members) three months after a major move. Gotta tell you, grief is much easier with a support system.
Every time I go back to Phoenix, I'm saddened. It isn't the city I grew up in. Metrocenter is gone. Bell Road is dumpy. The city no longer ends at Deer Valley. There's litter everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Traffic is gross. People are just downright grumpy. The last two times I went back there were encampments at the retention basin three houses down from my former home in Mesa. Whatever your opinion about social justice or encampments, I'm still guessing you wouldn't want this 200 feet from your front door and in the field where the neighborhood children play soccer.
I've often wondered if I would have noticed the gradual shift in Phoenix's physical environment had we not moved. After all, was this happening all along? Or did the area's decline being in January of 2022? I know I'm much more aggressive on the road and my demeanor is surly when I'm in Phoenix. Every trip comes with a wave of abject depression it takes me a month to shake.
That said, I miss my friends and family. Dearly. I'd take all the littered Phoenix streets for a hug from one of them right about now. New friends are wonderful, but they aren't the same as old friends. There's a lot to be said for the comfort which comes with being able to sit across from a long-time girlfriend, sip an iced tea and have an entire conversation with a smile and a contented sigh.
My old friends are top of mind lately, maybe because it is the anniversary of our move. Maybe it is the time of year. I'm hoping I'm still someone they think about too.
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