Twelve years ago today we moved to Portland.
We drove our extended cab pickup loaded with our five fuzzy faces (3 black labs and two cats) towing our malibu (loaded with fragiles) from Denver to Boise (actually, Mountain Home) through high winds in Wyoming and a blizzard in Eastern Idaho. We stayed with some dear friends for the night and drove the rest of the way through snow in Eastern Oregon, and a driving rain and darkness through the Gorge. Only to hit rush hour traffic on 217 on the way to our rental house on Bull Mountain. We stayed with friends in the exact neighborhood where we have ended up…and met the moving van on the morning of January 3rd, 2006….probably the only DRY day in that record setting wettest January in Portland. Welcome to Oregon!
I am not sure how long we actually planned on living here.
At one point we almost moved, but ended up staying.
For now, I cannot imagine living anywhere else.
Colorado is where I was born, raised, and met my husband, but Portland is home.
It’s where we started our own family.
It’s where we have been through the best and the worst of our marriage.
It’s where we have made friends that feel like family.
It’s where we have planted our roots.
Cheers to a dozen years in the Rose City, Bridgeport, Stumptown, and all that keeps Portland weird.
One thought on “a dozen”
It is good to be happy where you are…