How I’ve loved the last four years in the Pacific Northwest. How I’ve loved the abundance of green and the prolific gardens. We’ve been tucked in Salem, an hour from the quirky fun of Portland, an hour from the radiant beauty of the powerful Pacific and an hour from the gift of time with my oldest son near Eugene.
Oregon, in a word, has been gentle. I’ve felt nurtured and calm and held here.
I’ve written about and photographed its beauty for different publications.
My soul has thrived.
I’ve seen my husband transform and come into his own in ways he, nor I, could have predicted when we were just “passing through” in an RV four years ago.
Four years! How does that happen so fast?
But we’re moving to Arizona; to a home we purchased a year ago and have visited a few times since.
I know the feel of moving. It’s always bittersweet. When you’re on to someplace new – you’re inevitably leaving treasures behind. Will we all feel that way about our lives, in general, when we move on from our existence here? Of course we will.
I’ve learned after a lifetime of moving, that settling into new places takes a a little time before they become familiar and cherished and that I have to be courteous and allow them to introduce themselves.
I’ve come to be so very, very grateful for what I’ve experienced in and with the place from which I’m parting. For how a place has moved me and filled my soul, for friends whom I’ve laughed and hugged and talked and grown with while in a place. I know I carry the energy of every place and home within me and the love of friends at each locale for a lifetime. It’s a mystical, irreplacable alchemy.
I’ve learned it all works better if I enjoy it.
I trust the journey.
I embrace the uncertainty.
And I know, as Mandy Hale said, “When nothing is certain, anything is possible.”