In light of the fact that I'm leaving Portland soon, I've been thinking about the idea of transition.
Previously, the biggest move I've experienced was going from Dallas to here. By the time I rolled out of town, though, a lot of my closest friends were mostly doing their own thing - or gone entirely. My family was back home but also had their own things going. Even if I decided to stay in Texas, I would be in the position of finding a close group of friends and finding a sense of "home". This made is pretty easy to leave.
Leaving Portland is quite different. It took me 8 months of make friends - and it was a lot of hard work to get there. The difference is that they'll be hanging out together way after I'm gone - I'm the only one leaving. No sooner do I begin to picture "home" as the Portland skyline do I decide to move on.
I've been thinking about all of this and wonder what's wrong with me. There must be some part of me that twitches with delight at the idea of uncertainty. It was not easy to get to the point of feeling like Portland is home, and I can't imagine it will be any easier at my next stop, yet I'm still really, really excited to get going. Ready to accomplish my next mission of doing it again.
Maybe it's an addiction, and rolling into the Pacific North West without knowing a soul was my first taste of a lifestyle I didn't expect to love. I get the feeling this isn't the last time I'm going to settle in just as I decide to uproot again. It's fun and challenging, and who doesn't love that?
I can't imagine this kind of lifestyle is a healthy way to establish lasting relationships in my life, but it's just so damn fun.