Stumptown Landing

Fri. morn:

Up at 3:30am. Flying over Crater Lake at 7:10am. Down below tributaries, fingers on the vast Western hand, connect to the long arm of the North Pacific Coast. Drifting on thoughts of water, but as I focus, it’s not water at all. Clouds roll and blanket, a body upon a body. We look out across the menagerie to feel into the space between one home and another.

It’s official. We’re moving to Portland. We sold a business. Plans changed and changed again. In the winding journey, we return to an original vision, seeds planted last year begin to sprout.

The last few days in Berkeley, I am knee-deep in financial information. Files and files and files. Old systems die while new systems have not yet arisen. Not familiar territory. Not the closing of eyes in fractal fields while threads of image and word reveal.

In my mind dormant synapses awaken slowly, logic and reason buried deep in an old trunk. It's been a long while since I have led with straight line information. I pull out that map to find my handwriting, scribbles pointing to detours and off-roads. I can stay on interstates if I have to....it's just those side roads always call.

Sometimes we have to go back and look for the bones of a foundation to make sure what we built back then is strong enough to hold up where we are now. And now we see so much more than we could have in the beginning of our travels. Better technology. The results of our long journey reduces complicated architecture to simple, clean lines. And the rebuilding feels good.

River crawls across my body as I type, between her Baby Einstein movie and the view over arctic looking cloud cover. On the way to the airport in the dark she asks three times, “Where we are?” and “What appening?”

****
Sat. morn:

Yesterday in Portland: CPAs, lawyers, realtors, schools. Legos and dolls in swanky offices. We sit perched on our seats. I look at my notes (what notes?) and eek out intelligent financial questions. I nod but he knows I have no clue. River grunts in the corner, and I think: thank god. Poop brings it all down home and we talk about kids and life and yoga class and bike accidents. This I understand.

Now. I steal away and drive in circles to find the road to City Center. I call around for wireless internet paired to great coffee. Everyone says go to Stumptown. I park and get out. Jesus it’s cold here! Walk around the block and ask a bellguy. He points, “Not from around here are ya? Next to Bijou, see? Can’t miss it.” I walk fast, and he yells behind me, “Best latte in town!” I enter, wow. Coffeehouse slash dance club bang. I order: medium, half-caf, low-fat latte. Hip coffee girl, silver filigree square glasses, yells, “Hey, we call it split-caf here!” I smile, “I’m from Berkeley, didn’t know.” Like a real professional she tips her chin up at me. We’re on the same page now. This I understand.

God, I love it here. As Carrie says, Happy Happy Happy.

Yes, Portland people. I am among you for two days, thick pile of documents in hand, preparing for the real coming.

Not the other coming - I visit a preschool and the director pulls me into her office to tell me that the reason it feels so good there is because the Great Physician in the Sky shines down upon her children. She throws up arms: Praise to our Savior, Lord Jesus Christ!

See what happens when your husband suddenly wants to be a minister? People come out of the freakin woodwork. Alrighty then. I’ll continue my search.

One step closer, though more sleep-deprived than I care to be. I’ll go home tomorrow with more of the vision in sight. Home to work, write, look over all the roots and begin to pull them up gently.