Yesterday I had a run of regret, zipping around the river path in one of Eugene’s perfect summer evenings, 8:30 and the sky still full of light, bikers and dog walkers and kids on swings and the smell of honeysuckle and the sound of rapids and my head full of wondering why I am leaving here, this surprising little city of liberal bumper stickers and buttes full of blackberries. And while I’m at it, why didn’t I bike this path every week? Why didn’t I spend even one day taking photographs of this place I’ve lived for four years?

And this is how I get about transitions, and it’s terribly sad and it’s part of why I appreciate them. Every time I try to do it a little bit better, so it will be a little less sad. But it’s always sad.

Last night Ty and Talley and I were sitting in Talley’s livingroom decompressing from the third and final yard sale, and we realized I was leaving in two days, and in the span of five minutes Ty and Talley called all our local friends on two cell phones so that tonight after a day of boxing my stuff and stacking it into a 5’x5’ unit, Ty and Talley and Melissa and Nopporn and Deb and John and Paz and Liz and Adrienne and I ate vegetarian Chinese food and made one last long pilgrimage to Sweet Life for cake and tea and stories. Some of these stories had to do with marathon vomiting and marathon underwear and marathon flesh wounds, but some of them were entirely pleasant.

And now every one of us is off to somewhere new, except Liz who is doing her something new right here, and I know that’s what needs to happen next. But wow, you sit at a table with eight inspiring kickass people and you just wish you could sit with them once a week forever to hear about the inspiring kickass things they’re up to.

But for now I’m packing. To the many many folks who have sent good wishes, song lists, tiny notes, and donations this week, thank you SO VERY MUCH. I hope you understand how deeply I appreciate this support, and how it has shaped this whole experience. Right this very moment, thinking about the run, I feel thrilled instead of nervous because of all of you. I promise to return the unanswered calls and messages just as soon as I can… so, as soon as I cram the rest of my stuff into the storage unit, drive to Seattle, fly to Anchorage, and run 26 miles. Next week, perhaps?