Spokane or Bust: Don’t ever say Spo-can’t

This blog begins with a move. An 800-mile move. An I’m-leaving-behind-almost-all-my-close-friends move. A move that pulls me away from the mountains I’ve adored and explored since I was a teenager. This large expanse of sage that I have called home for the last 8 years has allowed me to grow in ways I never thought I could. It has sat patiently while I explored my inner self, while I trekked over it’s rough spots, and found wildflowers in unlikely places.

 But I’m ready to move on. I’ve been waiting for this for awhile. And I welcome it. Because I can’t do anything else. My identity and my strength lies in what I have yet to explore. I get myself into trouble when I dwell on the past, when I get nostalgic, or try to piece together my journey by looking back. One lesson I hold to religiously (one that Mr. A can’t fully understand) is that the past is not a place I can spend too much time. I look for the lesson, learn it, and move on. Too much time spent in those details and I’m stuck in a sort of whirlpool that only makes me feel stupid, insecure, and foolish. Perhaps that’s what I mean when I continually point out that I’m not the most sentimental of women.

 Pensive ramblings aside, we’re moving. Mr. A, myself, Crazy Towhead, and the Mutt. In less than a week we pack up, and head off through the mountains to the north. Cleaning things out feels good, but the speed at which I’m doing it makes me feel ambivalent. I don’t think “the move” and all it’s implications has had a chance to sink in yet. Maybe that’s a good thing.

 I keep thinking about Spokane. Everyone keeps telling us it’s like Reno without the casinos. I can live with that. But all I can think of is Bush’s classic, “Are you an American or an Ameri-can’t?” I hope this is not a bad omen for the town’s potential for us. 

I’m excited. I want to explore. I’m scared that I will lose touch with my friends. I’m bad at these things.

My heart is warmed by all the people who have wished us well on our move and who’ve offered to help. It sounds so cheesy but with that warmth and friendship and fondness close to me — be it in the form of Mr. A, friends or family — I can walk through the worst storm with a smile on my face. With that thought in mind, I’m heading north in the dead of winter.