Twenty-one years

Several times today, I’ve found myself in conversations with people in which we exclaim over the fact that today is the first day of March (and it’s coming in like a lion here in Philly, with 8 to 10 inches of snow expected in the next 12 hours). However, it wasn’t until this evening that I realized that it wasn’t just the first day of March, it was also the 21st anniversary of my family’s move to Portland.

I remember the day we left LA quite clearly, as we packed up our 1986 Subaru and headed north out of Southern California. My sister and I fought over the amount of space the other was taking up in the backseat, and I traced our route on a map.

The drive took two days, and so we stayed in a motel someplace in the Northern California mountains. I remember my dad carefully cleaning the backseat windows before we pulled out, saying, “we’re going to be traveling through some beautiful country today, and I want to make sure you guys can see it.”

While I haven’t lived in Portland in more than seven years, I still call it home. I feel so grateful that I had the good fortune to grow up in such a wonderful city.

One thought on “Twenty-one years

  1. Mom

    What a shame that your children (my grandchildren) will not have the fortune of growing up in Portland, which is still a wonderful city. I remember thinking when we moved here, now this is a city my children will never want to leave. Silly me.


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