The act of moving feels second nature. We have been moving every two or three years for the past decade, Damon and I, so this time feels not unlike the rest. We know the drill: Before it’s too late, one last taste of everything we love…Today, Magnolia cafe pancakes–without the kids; a muddy plod through the greenbelt basin; yesterday, skateboarding after dark at the top of Damon’s old parking garage. Shotgunning Shiner beer and watching the weather change above us. I wish we could experience one more thunderstorm before we depart on Wednesday for the west coast; I’ll miss the stratospheric drama we’re accustomed to here, but we’ll exchange all that for a new trove of earthly spactacles: quakes, geysers, hot springs and bubbling mud pits. Purple sulphur bacteria. And heaving kelp beds beneath tiny boats. I decided to unearth the kelp quilt I started several months ago and pack it with the hotel yarn stash, fodder for my late nights to come, once we arrive in Mountain View.
Safe travels as you make your way back to the Left Coast…