I've been putting this blog post off, partly because I'm so overwhelmed and partly I think because if I put it in the blog it will be real and then maybe the universe will explode or something.
Okay, maybe it's not that much of a big thing.
We are moving to Portland.
We didn't intend to move to Portland. After Dan graduated, we moved back to Boise, Idaho, the place where we had started our married life. We wanted to live here and work here and build our lives in this place where we had so many memories and so many friends.
But it didn't work. Dan couldn't find a job, I couldn't seem to find my footing and neither one of us really felt like we fit. We were living with my in-laws, who are gracious people, but it wasn't home.
Then it happened. A chance conversation with a friend, an opening in another town and a job offer we couldn't--and didn't really want to--refuse. And now we're off to Portland at the end of the month.
Perhaps I am afraid to say "I'm moving to Portland" too loudly or too excitedly. Because I am a storyteller and I know that while defeat is never permanent, neither is victory. Because I am a pessimist and an anxious person, and because this is such a big thing, a thing I was not expecting and have no plans for.
And I'm going to miss Boise. I'll miss my bookstore job and my friends here and the comfort of always knowing how to get where I want to go.
But part of me is SO excited. I've wanted to live on the West Coast for a long time, and when you add in the wonderful proliferation of local bookstores, the proximity of one of my best friends and the fact that I might actually be able to become a full time writer...
It's a bit like a dream come true.
Which is kind of scary.
Am I alone in this? Does anyone else get scared when unexpected good things happen?