Coming home

A year ago yesterday, I moved out of the southern Portland suburbs and into the far northern reaches of what I guess could be called Portland's ruburbia (does anyone still use that term?).

It was quite a change for me, and one that I was hesitant to make.

I grew up in suburbia, and grew less and less enchanted with it as I got older. My ex-husband and I moved to Baltimore in 2005? 2007? Somewhere in there, anyway. That was the moment I realized I really am a city girl at heart.

From that aspect, moving to Portland was an easy choice. I fell in love with the city, and it's a small enough city that I don't feel intimidated like I do in larger cities. Even DC is too big for me.

And even though I was living in the Portland suburbs, we were close enough to Portland proper that the city felt like it was home.

What I am not and never had been was a small-town girl, a country girl. That, plus the distance from Portland, from my friends, made me hesitant to make this move.

But a year later, I am oh so glad I did.

The area I live in is beautiful. We have a view of the Columbia River out our back windows. It's quiet and peaceful, and in this year I've needed that quiet and peace to heal from a lifetime of struggle.

I was particularly hesitant to make this move because Roy & I had been together for so short a time. It was putting a lot on a relatively new relationship for me to uproot and move in.

But I am oh so glad I did.

I'm adjusting to being far away from everything - well, except for St Helens and Scappoose. I'm getting used to small town life. I'm getting used to driving for a long time to get to Portland.

And as the city I love goes through some severe growing pains, it's kind of nice to have some distance between it and me.  This small town feels safer, more comfortable.

This is home now.