When I first moved to Fairfield (2-1/2 years ago this week) to be with my honey, I was three months pregnant and dealing with constant morning sickness; I was planning our wedding; I started my telecommuting arrangement and weekly round-trip drive to Des Moines; Glen soon started a new job himself; we were remodeling our home and everything was covered in drywall dust; we were getting used to each other's habits after each having lived alone for years; we were introducing Glen's two nice, gentle cats to my two rowdy, finicky, opinionated cats (my sweet little Prancer never could get along and has since gone to the country to live with friends); and poor Glen had stacks and stacks of Ikea cabinets (my idea, mind you) to put together.
Then along came Jack, the hours spent gazing lovingly at my precious little bundle, many out-of-town visits to see his adoring grandparents, breastfeeding, lack of sleep, learning to juggle work and family life, etc., etc.
Which is all to say, finding my place in Fairfield was not No. 1 on my priority list for the first year or two after my move here. But then I woke up one morning to find myself feeling pretty disconnected, a little bored, torn between my old home in Des Moines and my new one in Fairfield, one foot in each town, not really at home in either.
A few months ago my massage therapist asked me if I had fallen in love with Fairfield yet (naturally assuming I would adore the idyllic little town as much as he does), and my answer was, sadly, "Ummm...not really."
Which led me to start making a conscious effort to become more "a part" of this little community, and today I can say that I'm suddenly feeling mostly at home here, and at least a little grateful:
- About three months ago I discovered the Fairfield/Vedic City Mom's group, which was a Godsend for me. In this short time I've made some new friends, formed a book club, scheduled play dates for Jack, helped raise money for a new indoor Play Room at our Rec Center, gotten referrals for local resources, and started to feel like a part of something.
- We have a trusted babysitter whom Jack adores and a delightful cleaning person, both of whom have become almost like family. I have a great yoga instructor who teaches a little class out of her home, my best hair dresser ever, a couple fabulous massage therapists, a friend to go on walks with, a gay couple we can invite for dinner ("my Gays," as the comic Kathy Griffin says, which I feared we might never find in this little town).
- I've gushed about some of these things before, but for a town of 10,000, Fairfield cannot be beat when it comes to the number of coffee shops and restaurants (French, Indian, Thai, Chinese, and middle Eastern food, organic and vegetarian restaurants, wood-fired pizzas, traditional small-town diners and pizza places, the Chocolate Cafe, a great Sunday brunch at Cafe Paradiso); since we live right by the square, we can walk to any of these restaurants in ten minutes or less. Then there's the Fairfield Art Walk the first Friday of every month, the wonderful farmer's market, book stores, shops, art galleries, an organic grocery store, concerts on the square in the summer, lots of blessings to count.
Of course, there are things I still gripe about, things I miss: while Fairfield has a large number of restaurants, some of them don't live up to the excellent food I loved in Des Moines, or my favorite coffee shop in my old neighborhood, Zanzibar's, which felt like a second home. My weekly commute to Des Moines is fine unless the weather is bad, which it's been often this winter. I still wouldn't call any of my Fairfield friendships super close, which I crave; but I know those types of relationships take time to build.
All in all, life here has fallen into a cozy, sweet little rhythm, one I'm growing to love.
