The Move, but first . . .

 I left Eugene September 13^th. I left my heart.

How can I tell it all, the emotions, the hard good byes? Yet, at the same time, the affirmation. It was so in contrast to how I left Chicago for the West Coast the end of December. I blame the pandemic.

The fear. I’m no denier, a contagious virus was raging and people were understandably afraid, but it didn’t need to be so isolating. It shut down people, their abilities to reason, in the sense of kindness. The part of us that extends itself beyond—a smile, a moment to stop and say hello, holding a door for someone. Answering a question. The fear of the unknown was so overwhelming that it too became a pandemic.

Contributing to public behavior.

We see it even now in the number of incidents were folks act out on planes, other forms of mass transit, in grocery stores, etc. Fear is not an excuse, just my underlying theory on why so many people are acting crazy.

Thus, leaving Eugene I was so struck by the number of folks who came out to say goodbye, to offer help in my transition, who went above and beyond. I feel like Sally Fields upon receiving an Oscar: They like me! They genuinely do!

It confounded me—as I am also genuinely old.

My roommate for example who could have been my grandson drove me to the bus stop (this was morning, y’all) and hung with me. He said I belong in the Roommate Hall of Fame. I’d like to believe there is one. Sam drove my 2 bikes and big Bertha suitcase to Portland so that I wouldn’t have to bother with this stuff as per all my other planned travels. I received heart-felt texts to say I’d be missed.

All this to say: It was a leave-taking that affirmed who I am in the universe. I was seen, my presence made an impact. It helped me to see that no matter where I am I can reach into and touch others. This imperfect person, me, is still able to do good. Yessss.