Relocation

It's officially official: We are moving to Portland. Notices have been given, leases are ending, and resumes have been sent out. There's no going back.

 It didn't feel truly final until I e-mailed my resignation. Telling family, friends, and notifying the landlord is one thing, but quitting a job is another--it can't easily be undone. The last time I did this--quit a job I loved and relocated--it was from Phoenix to here, and while it hasn't been entirely perfect I haven't regretted my decision for a second.

Virginia gave me a fresh start after a bad time. Although they were on someone else's dime the months Kasey and I spent poor and jobless were wonderful. We had nothing to do but wait for employment and find free ways to entertain and feed ourselves. We spent so much time walking around our neighborhood in that first year we're almost sick of it now, having seen (and probably photographed) every square foot of its gorgeousness a hundred times over. My first couple of years here burned bright with the last magic of my youth, and sometimes when walking with my son along the river or driving down London Boulevard towards home an echo of it reaches me from those days, and for a second I'm in love with life again.

My son was born here, and without moving cross-country he would never have happened. The historical district we live in and the antique building we've called home has provided photogenic backdrops that other snap-happy parents would kill for. When we look back at his baby pictures from wherever we end up we'll remark on the beauty of Olde Town Portsmouth, and how much we loved living there (along with what a gorgeous baby Jonas was, of course.)

As it is now, however, without the benefit of time, distance, or nostalgia, we cannot wait to leave: the tunnel traffic and a lack of decent public transit, the cost of living and scarcity of decent-paying jobs (although that's everywhere, apparently), the sub-par public schools (also possibly everywhere)--but most of all, the pervasive humidity. Like the tell-tale heart, the humid climate of Hampton Roads is no longer something I can bear. Above all else it pounds in my head, "Get out, get out, get out." Growing up in the temperate Pacific North West and then living in the deserts of Arizona have not accustomed me to handle the oppressive moist air, and five years here have done nothing to change it. Even Kasey, who has lived with it most of her life, has grown tired of this climate. For those who have not experienced it, thick humidity drowns you as soon as you step out of the cool embrace of air-conditioning, easily ruining any outdoor activities. I much prefer the triple-digit temperatures and blast-furnace summers of Phoenix.

Why Portland? Mostly because of family. My aunt lives in the city and has generously offered to put us up at her place until we get settled. The rest live in Idaho, an easy day's drive through gorgeous country instead of a horrendous, expensive, soul-sucking thirteen hours of flying across the country. Kasey's dad basically lives in San Diego and hasn't spent near enough time with us or his grandson, a predicament shared by everyone in my family. The trips and visits have been great but too few and far in between.

Also, it's beautiful! I love the climate (including the misting rain I'm told to expect) and we'll be nearer to amazing things like ski mountains, redwood forests, my grandmother's "cabins", and the annual Twin Peaks convention. Nothing ever happens here and I'm positive Portland will have more to offer in terms of concerts and events. LA will also be relatively close, where all the art shows happen, and I'll be nearer to my dream of becoming friends with David Lynch and visiting his compound. I know New York is big for art too but we've never made it up there, and I'd rather drive nine hundred miles south along the beautiful West Coast than three hundred and fifty miles up the drab East Coast. Have you ever been on the New Jersey Turnpike? It's bleak.

I've always planned on moving closer to home when it was time to get settled, even if I wasn't always aware of it. I left Idaho right out of high school, harboring dreams of living out east. Even though it took me a few years, and I ended up in Virginia instead of New York, I'm able to check it off my list. We have a kid now, and from the beginning we knew he wouldn't be raised in Hampton Roads. The past couple of years family has become more important to me, and it's time for Jonas and I to be a part of mine before the opportunity is gone.

Luckily Kasey's family is following us out there, too. Her mom and Jonas' Aunt Kelly will be packing up and driving coast to coast right along with us, and her brother will be meeting us there. I couldn't be happier; Sheila and Kelly are such big parts of Jonas' life and we'd all miss them terribly, and I've always wanted to hang out with "Uncle Daniel" more. He's been out of state since I've lived here and his visits are always too short. Plus I owe him some money and it'll be easier to pay him back if I see him all the time.

They say you can't run away from your problems and mostly they're right (although when I left Arizona I traded all my problems for one--get a job.) Kasey and I are looking forward to a new start more than running away, however, unless you count the climate. As long as I've known her she's been aching for a big move, and I'm always ready for a major change. I'm glad events have fallen into place so that it can finally happen.

There are things I'm going to miss here. Historic Olde Town is a hidden gem, nestled between the Elizabeth River and the sketchy parts of Portsmouth. It's strangely peaceful and isolated, even though the homeless congregate outside of a 7-11 just a handful of blocks away. People here are generally well-off and friendly; you can walk your kids and your dog safely, even at night. It's full of gorgeous homes built in the eighteen- and nineteen-hundreds and tall, shady trees. We enjoy the benefit of being right outside of the "city" while having easy access to it. The quaint paddle-boat ferry takes you to Downtown Norfolk just across the river for $1.50, with the mall and restaurants a short walk away and the eclectic neighborhood of Ghent not much farther than that. I doubt there's another neighborhood like it.

Almost more than Olde Town, I'm sad to be leaving my job. My boss is three hours north in D.C. so I have a lot of very enjoyable autonomy. The people on my team are a swell bunch of guys, from my fellow help desk technicians on up to my boss' boss; he found me a job to apply for at one of our sister companies in Portland and talked me up to the manager. My direct supervisor is just a hell of a nice guy and has never stopped advocating on my behalf, from the day he generously gave me a second chance to make the interview after some car trouble to offering himself as a reference after I resigned. No one could ask for better coworkers. The office itself has a surprising number of great folks. Out of the ninety-ish people I support only a couple are... difficult. I'm going to be hard-pressed to find a better place to work. I can only hope the company in Portland takes me on, and that it's as great as its sibling.

If circumstances allow (and Kasey consents) I'd love to swing by Arizona to see my old GoDaddy crew and take the absolutely beautiful drive up through the Grand Canyon, Utah, and eventually home in Idaho before going to Oregon. During the years I lived in Phoenix I'd make the twelve-hour drive frequently, and I've been talking about doing it again for years. The route is almost entirely scenic two-lane back roads that wind through green hills, red desert plateaus, and tiny forgotten towns. From what Google Maps says the side trip would only add about ten hours of driving time--a payment I would gladly make for such a gorgeous drive.

Almost all of my worries now are purely logistical. Once we were decided enough to put an end-date on our lease and my aunt offered us a place to stay most of my fears dissipated. Now we just have to begin the tedious work of sorting, tossing, and packing everything we own and then getting it into a truck. Once we pull out of our neighborhood for the last time, however, I know it's all going to be downhill from there. In a good way.

We're excited for what the future holds. There is so much to look forward to: a new city--a new coast!; the cross-country road trip, visiting family and friends along the way; being a bum for at least as long as it takes to drive there; the forced reduction of clutter from our apartment and our lives; and being close to my home state and my family, starting over fresh. It's cheesy and cliche, but I can't wait to begin the first day of the rest of our lives. Even if it is going to start in a Penske truck.