DC Farewell

June 1, 2013
            Haven’t been saying much lately, but this is the Eve of our departure for Minnesota; (a week away) to seek retirement space. Friends and family out there anticipate us; they actually sound encouraging.
            Yeah, we know it sounds crazy, and all. Everyone we tell about moving to Duluth; EVERYone, tells us “But you know it’s COLD there!!!” Like we don’t know it, and like cold places are not good.
            Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe it is a stupid, romantic delusion. Maybe a season of Frostbite Falls will see us turn tail and run. Dunno. But we’re both from there, and for myself, I can tell you how the northern pines can call.
            What is scary in this prospect is just how much junk we’ve acquired in our 13 years of DC residency, plus all our previous years together. Triage has forced us to get rid of a few, treasured, emotion-imbued items, (as well as a half-a-garage-ful of junk,) and when I look around, it seems like a drop in the old bucket. It’s painful to close up, turn off, and pack away my studio, as if that’s an end; and today I had to disconnect the cable box to return it to overpriced Comcast. (No TV!!??!)
            One thing that does strike me is the loneliness of it all. What few friends I’ve managed to make here in DC are busy with their own lives, and I don’t have a lot of people to seriously talk to about the flood of emotions going through me. Frequently I am by myself, staring at sealed boxes and the distressing amount of stuff left to pack.
            Both the people we’ve contracted to mind the house (we’re trying to rent it for a year) and the people we’ve contracted to move our household are clearly in it for the money. Don’t be fooled by those ads that claim “we’ve got your interests at heart.” They give less than a damn about us. It’s all about the dollars, and they want plenty of them. Everything costs. Turn around, and you’re shelling out a hundred here, two hundred there. And it still seems like little has got done.
            I’m not sure if where we are going will be an improvement, but I remember its physical, natural beauty. On a clear night you can see the aurora borealis…maybe even the Milky Way. These scenes are in my blood; I seek them. On a cold winter night there are no adequate words for beauty like that.
            That’s what I mean when I say it’s a good bet I’m a romantic fool. Will I find work there? Will we be able to survive there? Questions that can’t be answered at this time. Our attention is (has to be) directed to getting there. Perhaps we’ll get through one winter, and decide to flee. Dunno. I’ll have to letcha know about it all, further on down the road.