When I was 17, I rode a motorcycle for the first (and next to last) time. As we started to go, I got scared and touched my foot to the ground. Pain. Excruciating pain. Essentially, that's what I've been doing to my insides since we "sort of" decided to "probably" move to Portland. I realized it was time to make a decision and commit to it, putting my energy into what I want to happen rather than adding to my list of things I'm afraid might happen.
So I've officially given my notice at work this week. It's kind of a weird feeling to be giving a six-month notice, but with all the planning already for next year, I wanted to give everyone as much time as possible to plan and cross-train before I'm gone.
There are some kids and people I'm really, really going to miss! For the most part, though, I'm looking forward to going back to writing.
We've been having this to-move-or-not-to-move debate for so long now that it feels good to have made a decision. Matt says he thought we'd already made it, but I was still going over the pros and cons in my head like a CD stuck on repeat. And then there were the Negative Nellys (some loving, others not so much) with their gloom and doom about all the reasons moving to Portland was a bad idea. And it's true, there are a lot of reasons not to do this. But we've decided. It's our next thing. So it's time to start packing. Again. I did mention to Matt that this will be one of those cards I play for the rest of our lives. As in "You're going to [insert something that does not thrill me here]? But I moved to Portland because of you!"
As with any public announcement now begins the commentary and advice. The first student to hear I'm moving to Portland had this piece of wisdom for me: "Wear a vest."