Fly Away

It's time to say goodbye. Here in the airport terminal with the free Wi-Fi (how very Portland, eh?), I will bid her adieu. I almost feel like there's nothing to say. We've spent the last few days exchanging thoughts, feelings, parting words. Now, it is time to go. And I'll admit that I am ready. I feel a bit guilty saying that, as though the proper response at this moment would be one of tortured departure, of begging and pleading for one more day. But that's just not the case. Portland has been kind enough, sharing her charms for the last 10 weeks. But I am not hers, and she is not mine, and it's only fitting and proper that this courtship comes to a close before it gets too stale.

I nearly wrote here on Wednesday night. I had stopped at my "old standby", the aptly-named Old Pharmacy Café, and it was pleasantly quiet, perfect for writing. They were doing major construction inside; I like what they're doing with the place. It feels more open now, more inviting. But something kept me from writing (senseless eBay searching?...no, no something more romantic than that.) And now the task has been given to Portland International Airport.

Rode the MAX one final time. By Pioneer Courthouse Square, and the pretty, East Coast mall, across the river, past the coffee shop that I frequented often before walking from the station to work. But no sentimental goodbyes, no biting nostalgia. It's time. It's time to be back in Phoenix -- to see the sky build in the afternoon, break, and pour out in the evening. It's time for Athens -- to settle into that warm, Southern embrace. Portland, it's been a story. Never anticipated chasing after you here. But that season has come to an end, more peacefully than I'd imagined it, and now it's time to be on my way. So adieu, my dear. I'll remember you fondly, and I hope you'll remember me likewise. But as the artist said, "All things go; all things go."