The last few days I toyed with the idea of moving the KY home from Crescent Hill to Anchorage. More than toyed with, in fact. A place came up for sale in Anchorage, an area I always thought would be the pinnacle of Louisville living. Something to aspire to. And the place is/was *spectacular*. A practically perfect home on the edge of the Anchorage Trail, checking off every single box on my wish list. Beautiful baths and kitchen. Enough bedrooms for guests and the grandsons. Zero improvements needed. A stellar pool and pool house. Two car garage, redbud trees and nature around the house. Styled in mid-century modern, just a perfect place.

After seeing it I was 100% sure I would make an offer and buy it. But after conversations with my realtor, wife, daughter, friends and with myself, I sadly decided to let it go. I was *so* sure I would move to Anchorage given a chance, but…no. One of the things that convinced me was the realization that many days I make multiple trips over to the kids’ house and vice versa – that just wouldn’t be practical with me in Anchorage. I’d be a lot more isolated, therefore unhappy. But I was still full of regret for what might have been, what could be.

Then this morning I woke up early and knew I would have to go somewhere for coffee – I had neglected to buy some for the house. At 7am I trundled off (walking) to Blue Dog, where I had good coffee and one of their rich, savory quiches. Sat there and wrote for a couple of hours as the morning light developed. Then I walked back toward the Galt Ave house, distracted by some beautiful Kentucky spring blooms and Carmichael’s Books.

Inside Carmichael’s I found a signed cookbook/bourbon history book by Edward Lee, a must-buy. Then I was stunned to see an oversize book with the name Ian M. Banks on it. It’s a memoir of sorts, containing a wealth of Banks’ notes and drawings from his creation of The Culture series, my all-time favorite science fiction books, maybe favorite all-time all-books. I *love* the idea of The Culture, a post-scarcity galaxy-wide human society where everything is possible and most everything that’s possible finds a way to happen. It’s the most optimistic view of humanity’s future that I can imagine – kind of my idea of heaven. And Banks was a master storyteller, second to none. So after geeking out with the proprietors a bit, I bought the book.

Down the street a little I passed new construction where they’re building a fashionable-looking wine bar with a streetside patio. Then Parlour, then the local Wine Shop, then Red Hog and the old-timey hardware store.

I realized then that I can’t leave Crescent Hill. Staying put was the right decision. I can’t think of anywhere else where I could have done my morning walk among a mix of woodland beauty and small-town shops. Anchorage is also beautiful, but aloof and guarded rather than Frankfort Avenue’s welcoming diversity of people and shops. This feels like home.