Ron and I are moving to Portland. We’re moving in August, in less than three months, when our lease is up and the heat is full and summer frisbee is over.
We’ll pack up our sunny apartment, our books that have become dusty after years in one place, our plants that have sprawled across the shelves and the radiators, our spice rack.
We’ll try, and fail, to pack the sunlight streaming in through the windows and the lake off the backyard—its ducks cruising by, its gentle lapping.
We’ll somehow say goodbye to all our friends.
This feels right to me anyway. A huge part of me is sad and bewildered, but my heart’s message rings clear. For my eight years in Madison I have stood like a giant straddling the country, one boot sinking in here and the other anchored deep into the earth of the Pacific Northwest. I always knew I’d go back; I just didn’t know when. I told Ron years ago that I would need this someday—to return to my family, the ocean, and the giant mossy trees. Even the ceaseless drizzle and the city grit.
I’m not done with Portland yet. I don’t know where we’ll settle, but I can’t settle anywhere till I live there again. If it doesn’t fit and we’re not happy enough, we can always come back here.
The time has come, this year. We’re in between, less rooted than before. We’ve quit our jobs at the Department of Natural Resources and Ron has become a substitute teacher, which he can do anywhere. I’m wrapping up my year-or-more of writing and am ready for whatever’s next. We don’t own a house. We don’t have a baby.
So we’re making a fresh start, leaving our little paradise for the familiar unknown—some apartment, likely darker, hopefully with a bigger kitchen. I’m reaching out to old friends I’ve lost touch with, crossing my fingers for new friends we haven’t yet met.
I look around me, sleepily content, with a dash of anticipation. We can enjoy Madison while we have it, then have our next adventure.
Seven years ago, back before I’d made this website, I wrote an experimental blog post I didn’t tell anyone about. The post was about living in beautiful Wisconsin, where I had just arrived nine months earlier. By now, in Portland, my eyes will be just as fresh.
