life update.
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I have moved a lot in my life. I counted once, before my last few moves in Portland. It was in the ‘teens when I took into account my shifts between residence halls and study abroad experiences in college (which I absolutely do). I’m used to moving and I’m actually quite good at it. The sorting and packing and schlepping things from one place to another, the unpacking and organizing and breaking down boxes. I know that moving always involves one 12-hour day when I make a 30-minutes-before-closing trip to Target to stock my kitchen with hot sauce and paper towels. I know that I need to make my bed almost right away after arriving in a new home; I know that it will take me three tries until I get my kitchen organized the way I like it; I know that I will, inevitably, forget to change my address for at least one credit card account. I know what to expect from a first night in a new home and in a new place; the way it doesn’t quite feel familiar and yet you know you’ve come home.
My last few moves have been mostly easy. Moves that coincided with a new job and a new rhythm for my day-to-day life -- bigger shifts than just changing my address and neighborhood. But for the last five years, there were things that remained the same during these moves. My community. My Life Wife. My city. I held tightly to what, and who, remained stable through these shifts, to what kept me grounded in the midst of change. To what keeps me grounded, still.
You can guess where these sentences are headed, yes? I’m moving. Not across town this time. Across states. To Fargo! Or, Moorhead, Minnesota, rather. I’ve accepted a position in Residence Life at Concordia College. At my alma mater.
And in my hometown. It was both surprising and so easy to choose this place after five years of being 1,500 miles away. I will be 10 minutes away from my mom, Gerard, and pet-siblings. I’ll be able to help my grandparents with their gardens (yes, that’s plural because they have two of them) this summer. I can take my goddaughter on after-school dates and celebrate birthdays in-person and hang out with my cousins more than just once a year. I’ll get to know my family as an adult. To repair and grow and nurture relationships that deserve to be attended to up close, face-to-face. I’ll get to know my hometown as an adult. It’s a different place from when I left it in 2013. I’m a different person, too.
When I told my pastor I was moving, she pulled me into a hug and said, “I’m just so excited for you! And I’m so, so sad!” And this rang the most true for me and has stuck with me -- in one breath, I’m describing my new job and apartment and adventure, picking up pace and pitch as I talk about all that is to come. In the next breath, I’m teary-eyed after someone’s asked how I’m doing, as I envision all of the lasts that are so close to arriving right in front of me. All of this is hard. It’s confusing. I am so excited. I am so sad.
I’ve known this news for awhile now. I’ve largely sat on it, quietly telling folks as they’ve asked and as I’ve needed to in order to make arrangements for the next steps: my last day at work, how I’m moving my bones across the country, what I want to do before I leave Portland. Even as someone who writes, I did not want to share this news in this way. It didn’t feel authentic to do a blanket “Life Update!” post on Facebook, sharing the news of this very personal life shift so publicly. As an Type 2 on the Enneagram, I felt a bit nervous about writing a whole post about *me* and *my future* to a bunch of y’all that didn’t even ask for that update. Instead, I dreamed of writing letters, or even just sending personalized text messages, to every human I’ve interacted with in Portland who has made an impact on me in my almost-five years here. Goodbyes and transitions are a beautiful time to do that, to dredge up all the memories and feelings and sap I can muster. To remind your people of how much they mean to you. Y’all know I love that mushy shit.
But that is not the reality of my life.
The reality is that I will spend the next week hauling ass to finish my graduate degree. I’ll spend most of my free hours in yoga pants cross-legged on my couch, squinting at the computer screen as I toggle between Google Docs and the Purdue Owl tab to write my final papers. I will spend the next month tying up the loose ends of my work, having last one-on-ones and writing a transition report and holding this duty phone for the last two times. And the small-but-biggest gaps in between those things will be filled with selling furniture, celebrating a graduation, hosting my family in Portland, and writing myself sticky notes so I remember to eat and shower.
It’s not the most idyllic way to end years in Portland -- no bucket list, no extravagant trips or hikes or adventures. I was bitter about it at first; I had these grand plans of what my last days would look like, all of the things I’ve never done in this city that I would squeeze in before I left. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I haven’t done it yet, it’s probably not important to do now. It feels right and beautiful to end my time in Portland just living my regular life -- keeping on with the small-yet-so-very-meaningful things and relationships that have made up my last years here. The students and colleagues and meetings and even the homework and emails and mundane tasks that have filled up my days as I discerned this move, this new job, this shift away from what I’ve come to know and embody and love for the last five years. And that’s enough for me, actually. What these next few weeks hold will be enough -- perfect in its own way. I think, more than anything else, Portland has taught me that. Whatever I am doing, wherever I am, is enough.
So, I sit here on my couch -- in yoga pants and squinting, yes -- sharing this news. Feeling excited. Feeling sad.
To all of my Portland people -- I hope you’ll join me on Saturday, June 23rd for a going away gathering. I’ll be posted up at Laurelhurst Park from 2:00-6:00pm. There will be blankets and picnic tables and food and drink. I love potlucks, so bring a potluck item or drink to share if you’re able. I hope you’ll swing by, even for five minutes, for a hug and conversation and a drink. Here’s the link to a little invitation I made. And if you can’t make it, that’s okay, too. Life is busy. I’m a pretty good pen pal even though I’m the worst texter. I’ve taken a fondness for random phone calls. I actually listen to my voicemails. So even if I don’t see you before I pack my life into my car, please stay in touch.
And to my community in Fargo-Moorhead -- Here I come. I’m ready to start scheduling coffee dates. :)
