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I am moving to Portland in a couple weeks.

How odd.

I am moving because of financial reasons, or at least that is the instant cause of the move. I am moving because Portland is amazing and Indiana is awful. I am moving so I can feel loved, not necessarily in a romantic way, but just understood and cared for. Everyone is going to think I am moving to be with R.

I need to figure out what I want to take with me, not in the context of what I want to get rid of, but of what I need to keep. By the very nature of moving 2000 miles away in an airplane, I have a limited amount of space in which to carry things.

I have a life out there, already. I mean, I don't have a job yet, or a house, but I have more friends than I have had in years, and more love than I think I have ever had directed at me.

What a presumptuous thing for me to say.

Anyway, I HAVE friends. I have friends in Portland, I have friends in Massachusetts, I have friends in Indiana... I am hoping Portland is my final destination.

Things are going well with my new lover, R. We are both trying to be sane while falling madly in love. She told me not to fall in love with her, and I told her that was an unrealistic and unfair thing to request of me. Two days later, we admitted we were in love. There's so much more I could say, but the only things worth saying here and now are that she is beautiful and wonderful, she loves me, and she says "baggle" instead of "bagel" and I tell her it makes me swoon and then she blushes.

So many people seem more interested in me and my life now that I am leaving Indiana. It's as though moving is a novelty. I just want to be home, with a garden full of purple flowers, tea and biscuits and fresh fruit, and R. in a blue satin sundress.

Right now I am tired and there is a thunderstorm, and tornado warnings.

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