Packing: Where the Past and Future Collide

I don’t have to begin packing until Saturday. I know this because I have packing down to a science. I’ve done it enough times.

When my wife and I were first married, we moved every six months. Sometimes less than six months if writing wasn’t paying the bills and there were no Help Wanted signs to be seen.

It was more like apartment hopping than moving, even if our friends did have to drive 50 or 60 extra miles to come see us.

As the years passed, the corporate job that overworked/underpaid Caren kept us from getting too far in any one direction, but when you work sales you don’t have to report into the office in person very often and she never minded a long drive.

Six months, move. Six months, move. Six months, move. For vacation, we’d go even farther. We were itching to get away.

As the 90s wound on and the money got better, a short flight became cheaper than long drive. The distance grew.

Our last three stops were nine months, twenty-two months, and now… two years and eight months.

Wow. Has it really been that long? No wonder Seattle feels like home. It feels good to have a place on this dusty ball where we feel that way.

Our stop in Seattle wasn’t planned. Originally, San Luis Obispo, California was going to be our home. My wife was going to quit the rat race in nine months, and we were going to move to the coast and flip hamburgers for tourists. Then three things happened.

First, a 6.5 earthquake in San Simeon crumbled much of SLO County. Second, the rat-race job that was going to be paying for all of this got wind of the plan and fired Caren four months early. Third… third is for another post.

So nine months became twenty-two months and SLO became Vancouver, BC.

Vancouver, BC became “Seattle for a few months while we get approved for Permanent Resident status.” Without rat-race jobs you have to have proof of funds. $12659 Canadian. In the nearly three years we’ve been here, we’ve watched the exchange rate play with our emotions, but we stayed optimistic and saved our pennies.

Then, eight weeks ago, my wife found her birth mother.

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

Things I’ll miss: Golden Gardens Park

I’m a bit of a beach bum. The sun, the sand, the surf, the sun, the people. The sun. I’m a bit solar powered. Nothing sounds better than a day outside, and a day at the beach is like a double-espresso shot of sunshine.

A short drive up the road is a small cafe called The Purple Cow. It’s a great place to grab lunch before heading back to Golden Gardens to watch the sunset and maybe stick around a while for the bonfires.

I spent many an evening strolling up the sidewalk hand-in-hand with Caren, stopping to sit on a log and plunge our toes into the sand, getting an ice cream from the small stand at the end of the walk, or sitting on a bench curled in a blanket watching the sun disappear over the mountains in the western sky beyond Puget Sound.