Crossing

Crossing the one-year mark of my time in Mexico was an event that passed with little fanfare and a great deal of bureaucratic fussing. The months, predictably, passed quickly. And over that time, Mexico City grew more comfortable; to leave my house in the morning felt less and less exotic and more and more routine. Replacing the vanished novelty is a sort of grudging enjoyment of the city's offerings and, perhaps, a tinge of homesickness.