Helium Balloon

Early this morning, while it was still dark, I woke up slowly to sheer anticipation for what was to come.  The move to Portland doesn’t get any more tangible than this: the official “house hunting” trip.  We have made our first flight and now, I sit in that gray and in-between time that we know and love as “the layover.”  I sit in a bread and bar with a glass of Sauvignon and think of all that has occurred to bring me to this exact place in time. I have certainly lived an interesting life, full of change and adventure, sadness and mirth, courage and fear,  love and pain, just so…full.  Herds of people whiz by with their rolling luggage, and the hustle and bustle of the airport creates a whirring sound, constantly growing and dwindling around me.  And just like that, my life has ebbed and flowed with ever changing backgrounds for the last twelve years. So, in a month or so the background is to include Mt. Hood, thank God for that.

There is far too much to do still before I leave Birmingham, but I feel like a helium balloon.  My feet are at least six inches off the ground as I breath a lung full of expectation and breathe out relief.  It has been a tough two and a half years. Years of facing my fears, reaching the end and beginning of my self, embracing my solitude, as well as the companionship of true friends. There is a dull ache as I stare at the ground below, knowing things won’t be the same without all of these people who have truly changed my life. At the same time, I am thankful to know that there is really no ties to break, no strings to cut, these friendships are ones that I will carry for life and the lessons learned have brought me closer to the person I hope to become.

 

 

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