I love Portland; I have since we landed here thinking we would continue on to Seattle and potentially northward from there, but Portland captured us and held us for four years. I am infinitely sad to let it go, but I realize that my life is shifting, as today has so demonstrated. One of the jobs I have lovingly held is shuttering on our team. Three were let go, and we were treated to a surprise meeting, which both Scott and I attended remotely and stared at each other as we absorbed the news. Scott, we have learned, is essential for a bit longer, but I haven't head about my status. I am not holding out hope that I survive the fallout. This was my favorite work, a wonderful respite from the exhaustion that is teaching and grading, that exercised my writing skills in unexpected ways and sharpened it into something marketable. It was quite an unexpected blow. I suppose, like anyone, I imagined the work continuing on forever, even as it shifted and reshaped itself. Alas, it is not meant to be.
This also adds to the errant tear that slips away from me. Today was the first of the goodbyes, really, and my head throbs from the unshed tears, and only giving in to sobs when I am alone, which at this point probably means I am packing boxes.
When we moved to Portland, I knew that it would be a new beginning. As we are leaving Portland, I don't know what to expect. I am hopeful; I am scared. I sent the tearful, fearful email to a friend today: "Tell me I'm not completely crazy for deciding to make this insane move." To which she responded, as only the most understanding friend can, "Of course you are crazy. Which is why I love you. The move is not insane though...Just be sure to buy some warm fur things..."
I already have the vintage fur hat set out, waiting to be used.
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