Of all the places we could have taken refuge, I’m glad we landed in Bloomington. This is a wonderful place, a place I’ve always loved, a place I never wanted to leave in the first place.
Bloomington’s just enough of a city to be a city, to have that thrum of urban excitement, but it’s also small enough to feel intimate and mellow when you need that.
And where else can you get some damn good gumbo served “Hoosier Style” over mashed potatoes? New Orleanians are horrified by the concept and skeptical in the extreme — until they try a bowl.
I love the bohemian raggedness of Bloomington. Sometimes it seems everyone here is an artist or a hippie or a stoner or at least married or related to one. And I like that.
I see the problems too. I see the sprawl. I see the traffic clogging up State Road 46. I know about the lack of economic opportunity, and the PCBs. Honestly, it just makes me smile. Life’s pretty sweet if these are the big problems. These are real problems, but they seem manageable. People who care to take them on have at least a chance of success.
It makes me wish I lived here.
We’ve tried to enjoy our sojourn, to treat it like an extended vacation. We’ve run out to Lake Griffy and Cedar Bluffs. We’ve walked the streets and the campus of the Big State University. We’ve visited with friends and family, gone to parties, seen bands.
But all the same, I can’t really enjoy being here. In fact, I don’t really feel like I am here. I feel more like I’m in Limbo. My thoughts are 800 miles away. So is my heart.
Right now, our plan is to move back down to New Orleans, hopefully for good, in less than two weeks. Much as I love Bloomongton, New Orleans is where I need to be.