No, we do not know where we will be this fall.

Welcome, Summer of Expectation. Welcome, summer of not knowing. Of wondering what should go in a box and what should not. Of should we keep this or give it to a smaller boy? Welcome, summer of it never feels like time off. Welcome, summer of malcontent and uncertain surrender of that feeling like you might have the slightest semblance of control. Welcome, sullen job market, fickle and unfeeling. Welcome, self-consuming questions aplenty that usually start with, "Why did we go into this field?" Welcome, $6 here and $6 there almost 75 times over to Interfolio service. Welcome, more questions on why the hell are we in this field? Welcome, almost-three-old boy bounding into the room with no idea of the weight of the world. Welcome, same boy with sparkling eyes and a growing interest in making me laugh by putting both fingers up your nose. Welcome, more waiting and less patience for empty e-mail boxes. Welcome, stop-asking-him-if-he's-heard-anything. Welcome, yet another neighbor asking, "Well, have you heard anything?" Welcome, yet another neighbor reminding me of the roots I have planted here. Yes, welcome that, and without sarcasm, but instead with painful awareness of what we'll be losing here if we ever leave. Welcome, giving up and giving in. Welcome, television that stops airing distractions far too soon. Welcome, spontaneous pool parties and the hopes of spontaneous job offerings. Welcome, little boy who will not know what hit him when and if we ever leave.