Everything is packed. The only thing left, really, is a stack of bills and papers that Eric needs to go through. He’s been working all week and hasn’t had the chance. I, however, have spent the week wrapping dishtowels around glasses and strapping down boxes with what seems like endless packing tape. Looking at our apartment now, it reminds me of a few years ago, when we first walked into this place. I loved the wood floors and the vintage tile, and the view from our windows is still enchanting, with an ancient magnolia tree, a modest rose garden and a productive lemon tree. This apartment has served us well, and I hope we can find another place as charming and spacious in Portland.

We are MOVING. Not just from place to place, but beyond the confines of a place. We are moving forward in our relationship together. We’ve lived together for almost three years now, but moving to a new place is indicative of a specific kind of commitment - one that defies the comforts of our hometown. In a relationship where marriage is in the future but not on the front burner, moving together is a significant and exciting step for us. Even in the glow of this energizing journey, I still feel the need to say au revoir to Fresno.

I’ve been getting a little wistful in the last week or so, but since most of my time has been sanctioned for packing, I’ve been able to avoid crying or getting too nostalgic. The hardest part is that we won’t be near our parents anymore. Particularly for me, this is tough. I’ve gotten used to the warmth that comes from knowing my mom and dad are right around the corner. Spontaneous visits are no longer going to be an option. But as a good friend reminded me: we’re just moving up the street. Our phones still work, email still works, we can drive down, fly… it’s only a move. However, I’ve also gotten used to my father and Eric having plenty of time to chat, something that neither of them really like to do on the phone. This seems like a small thing, but in this transition, I’m finding it’s the details that plague me the most.

The truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready to say goodbye to Fresno. Not because I want to stay, and not because I am doubting Portland as the best place to go. It’s simply because Fresno has been a good place to live. I spent the first year back in Fresno wishing I were somewhere else. Now, going to that “somewhere else,” I can see clearly how beneficial this city has been. The arms of my family, the inexpensive education, the perfectly challenging school, and of course, Eric. If I had not made the choice to come back to the Central Valley, I wouldn’t have met my partner. Fresno, as it turns out, brought me to a higher point in my life, a point I am proud to stand on.

As we’ve been going through the packing process, Eric has been standing back, eyeing the load, and shaking his head. “It’s not going to fit.” To give a little update, we have decided to take a small trailer, hitched to Eric’s truck. Our friend Corey is generously driving up with us, with his pickup loaded as well. We have over 20 boxes, a squishy chair, some end tables, and a small desk. It’s a lot of stuff, but I see it fitting perfectly. Because I know, when we start loading up that little trailer and our three vehicles, it'll work out, just like my time in Fresno worked out.

We’re moving to Portland. Wave if you see me on I-5.