Transistions

Before I left Washington, a good friend of mine asked me when the move would become real. He intimated that at some point on the drive I would complete my transistion from one place to the next. In retrospect, there were two such moments for me. One on the trip, though far earlier that he or I thought, and one long before I left.

The transistional moment came when, just a couple of days after I accepted my new position, I took the snow chains out of the trunk of my car and tossed them into the dumpster. That was a liberating moment as I freed myself from the trappings of an ice and snow ridden winter.

The second and more profound moment came on the drive. Upon my departure from Pullman I spent a few days in the Portland area visiting my brother's family. When I left there I drove up Interstate 84 through the Columbia River Gorge as I had every other time I had visited Portland. When I came to the point where in times past I had turned North to go to Pullman, this time I continued eastward. It was a truly emotional moment as I left the past behind and set out on my new adventures.