We made it to Portland on schedule, after a long almost-week, some ups and downs, and a lot of emotions - mostly mine. This is no small thing, uprooting ourselves "at this age" and starting all over again on a course that's not very clear to us. I cry a lot. I have fun. I do my best to roll with whatever happens, and to trust the Bigger Plan that we can't see. It feels right to be doing this crazy thing. And then, every so often, I completely fall apart. I gauge my days by how many times I cry. Yesterday was a 4-cry day. Today was only 2, but one was a real meltdown, and I deserved it.
We spent last night in a somewhat sketchy Motel 6 just outside of Portland. I had a bad feeling about it instantly, but we were tired and decided to spend the night there because it was relatively close to the storage unit we'd booked ahead of time. Long story short, we should have listened to that gut feeling. Someone cut the lock on the UHaul during the night and stole 2 suitcases full of favorite clothes, and some of Rick's tools. Crap!!! If you've ever been stolen from, you know the icky feeling of violation that makes the loss of stuff kind of secondary. Our insurance has a $1000 deductible, so a claim is not worth the effort. We just have to buy some new clothes and keep moving forward.
Tonight, and for the next several nights, we're in a La Quinta in a better part of town, in something of a spring heatwave. It's wonderful, and we finally feel relaxed for the first time in weeks. We're not "home," but we're here. It's time to take a few days to visit with friends, catch our breath, and decide which baby step to take next. For now, it's good to just sit still for a minute and enjoy what we find around us.