It’s been twenty years and two months since my family unit moved to Indianapolis from Illinois. Since then, I’ve moved seven times more. The first place was on the very edge of Indy, almost in the country. It was safe and comfortable, and everyone looked like me. Gazing towards the city, I would wonder what went on down there. Driving downtown required a map and nerves of steel. My sweaty-palmed self would grip the steering wheel, craning my neck in advance of every intersection, willing myself to see around corners. I didn’t want to end up on the wrong street! The downtown of 1992 was a far cry from what you see today.
In subsequent moves over two decades, I circled the city, drawing ever closer to it’s center. Like a moth to the flame.  Got familiar with the museums, and even helped build one. Visited many downtown restaurants and a couple of hot spots. Took Yoga classes and attended (and hosted) dozens of art gallery openings. Became active in the arts community.  Soon, I was a mile from the downtown Mile. That’s not a typo. Our downtown is wrapped by four streets, North, South East and West Streets. This Mile Square defines the downtown area.
I can’t say exactly when I started dreaming of living right smack in the middle of the Circle City. Unthinkable during the day, dreams bring unprecedented possibilities. I envisioned an apartment on Mass Ave., on the top floor of a building, with a parking space of my own. Light and bright. I started putting out feelers. Let me tell you, it’s not easy finding an affordable apartment in this city. Â But recently, someone returned a call from the week before. Things happened quickly after that.
So, here I am. Twenty two years and two months later, settling into the apartment of my dreams.  From my balcony, I see fall colors blazing on the trees beyond, and feel the energy of people going places in cars and on foot. This is my new home.  Here is where I have met, and will continue to meet, people who most certainly (and refreshingly) do not look just like me.  Here is where I’ll finish the second half of my book, on a folding table in a nook in my living area. Here is where I’ll lay my head tonight, on a four-poster bed, given to me by my loving family back in Illinois.
As a middle child, I always wanted to be right in the middle of everything. Now, it’s official. I think I’ll stick around for awhile.
