It seems that everyone I know is going through massive change. It’s that time of year. I, for one, could not be happier about the evolution. My world has turned inside out since January. Three trips to the Rockies inside of six months worked wonders on my well-being. The mountains have a way of shifting your view to a higher perspective. It was there I plotted my next move. The Big One. My exodus is here.
After 20 years, I say goodbye to Texas — a home that never really felt like home. That’s not to say I bemoaned every moment since I staged my pre-teen protest to relocation from blessed Chicago (locking myself in the basement only delayed our move by a half hour). I have spent a solid chunk of my life here, and I deeply love some of the people I met along the way. My son was born a Texan and assures me that I will never qualify to be a Texan myself. I met the Love of My Life in Texas. I adore my friends. It’s not been all bad — I just want to go home.
My compass is fixed West; home is waiting in the Bay.