From #eastcoast to #nocoast.

The first time you say it, say it like a whisper. Try the words out on your tongue, under your breath, audible only to you.

I’m moving.

Say it again, this time with feeling. Let the smile crawl into your voice. Let the syllables round out in your mouth like a cat waking up. The words, they belong to you. They are your words now. Own them.

I’m moving.

A few days later, say them again. Repeat them to friends, family, landladies. Quantify them. Say them so often that you start to feel the enormity of them.

I’m moving to Colorado.


I was, then I wasn’t, now I am. Moving. To Colorado.

Between now and Sunday, I pack up my east coast life in my tiny Ford Fiesta. I wedge a battered ski bag between boxes in the back of my car (there’s only room for one pair.  My “race skis,” practically antiques, won’t make the journey with me.) I pile clothes into bags and boxes. I play tetris with them, fitting them into my trunk, letting them overflow into the backseat.

I’m moving. To Boulder, Colorado.

From #eastcoast to #nocoast.


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