Yesterday I was still congested from the pollen and since it is so difficult to cry I just let the allergies do the work. I drove around and parked by the water and contemplated the fact that I actually love this place, eyes steadily streaming.
The Puget Sound is my home.
When I live elsewhere I feel sick with longing for the water and mountains.
But even though I could actually identify the feeling welling up inside of me (grief) it was tempered by two things. First, the fact that I do not actually go outside. Second, the raw and unkempt NW of my childhood is disappearing in favor of suburban development.
Since the things I loved are almost gone, and I have no desire to go kayaking, I will probably be fine living elsewhere. It was helpful to be here and figure out that I actually don’t care that much. I am not ruled by nostalgia.
Back at home I talked to Marisa on the phone about a show we’re doing, a special event on the coast right before I move. She said that she still misses seeing me every day in Portland when our lives were intertwined. She said that she will miss us, that we will be too far away. She said that she is glad to know me.
There will be new and good things to do in England, and I will be fascinated and charmed by whatever happens. But I am in fact giving up something solid and true when I leave.