I (finally) know where I'm moving
I wish it was to Mars
It’s official. And probably not a huge surprise, either. I’ve decided I’m moving to Portland, Oregon. Or I should say, moving back to Portland, twenty-two years after leaving.
It’s funny what “they” say, that when you leave a place it’s not like the door shuts behind you. You can actually just go back. So that’s what I’m doing. Going back, but of course so much has changed, with the city, in my life, in this country, the world. That’s what time does. And in one human life, twenty-two years is a whole lot of time.
I’ve written about my decision-making process here and here, so I don’t need to belabor it. But what stands out to me most, the biggest difference that comes with age and a fully developed brain, is how much the moves I made when I was young were one-thousand-percent based on vibes.
I left for a college I had never toured in a city I had never visited. Five years later, I intended to move to a city because of a movie I saw then once I got there decided to move to a different city 24 hours later. I can’t say all those choices made me happy, but the ratio cannot be denied. It all worked out as far as I’m concerned. Besides, that’s what youth is for, right? Fucking around. Finding out.
At this stage of life there has been so much more to consider, like affordability, politics, community, climate, and the fact that I’m forcing myself to stay in the United States until my kids graduate from college even though I’ve wanted to move out of this country since 1998 when I had my first opportunity to do so. But I didn’t, because I was married. And I had two big-ish dogs. And the job that came with the move would’ve had me working 14 hours a day, six days a week anyway, so why bother? Why not just move to the inside of a black box instead? And, and, and.
Now I’m not sure if moving out of the country is far enough, frankly. Have we colonized Mars yet? I’d move to the sun. The moon. The Good Place. Up my own bum.
Anyway, I’m excited for this move, beyond excited. As I tell my pals often, whenever I’m away from Vermont and especially in Portland I feel like my true self. Which is how I felt when I moved from Los Angeles to Portland the first time. I didn’t know that was my true self then, I just thought it was my new self.
I know it’s changed. Lord I know Portland has changed. I know. But I’ve had enough people tell me that they still believe in the city for me to believe in it too. And there are enough (actually so many) people I love and enjoy and want to spend more time with who live there. I’m excited to not be on a dead run to try to see as many people as possible in 5 or 7 or 10 days once or twice a year. I’m excited to see flowers in March. I’m excited to be closer to all of my west coast friends and closer to other west coast cities, too.
I was originally going to ship out with my dog on October 1st, after both kids were off to college and with enough time to drive cross country and celebrate my birthday in my new (old) city. But I’ve decided to wait until January, to not make my life more complicated by needing to travel back to Vermont for the holidays but without my dog.
The dog has become a surprise X factor in these decisions, for me, for my kids, for how easy it is for me to hop on a plane to come back but not for an anxious dog who flips out over particular trucks, certain people walking toward her (no discernible pattern), and chaos in general. I’ve waited seven years, what’s a few more months, what’s more dog time in Vermont when she’s almost 10? But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that combining the holidays with a move then a drive cross-country in January doesn’t sound like a recipe for a stress stroke. Anyway, sounds like a 2026 Me problem!
It’s funny, when I wrote about my last Vermont winter, I noted that we had actually arrived in Vermont halfway through that first winter. January 2003. But now, without intending to, I will finally complete it. Twenty-three Vermont winters. The two halves joined, more than two decades apart.
How’s that for closing the motherfuckin’ loop?
AYA: Ask You Anything
Ok! I have a lot to figure out about my new (old) city! Portland people, please hit me back with your recommendations for:
• Highly walkable and relatively safe neighborhoods (minimum requirements: coffee shop, restaurants, bars, bonus points for book store). I’ve previously lived in the Hawthorne district and Sellwood. Not interested in downtown or the Pearl.
• I’ll be looking to rent a dog-friendly house so any recos on rental agents or sites?
• Hot yoga studios and non-meathead strength training / lifting gyms.
• Sex positive and peri/menopause-fluent ob/gyn recommendations.
• Expert shag haircutter?
• Dog daycare, boarding kennel, or dog home stay situation (for longer boarding)?
• Trustworthy Volvo mechanic (my car is 10+ years old, so not a dealership).
I’m genuinely laughing at how this list is essentially my entire personality. Wow. Devastating. Anyway.
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Portland has that kind of pull in people. I grew up there and left after college. After 23 years in Philadelphia, I’ve spent the last year trying to move my family to Portland. When I’m in Portland, I feel like I can finally unfurl a part of myself I have to keep closely tucked in on the east coast.
Yay!! So glad you decided on Portland. Multnomah Village is awfully cute with a great dog park. Excited to hear/read about your journey 😊