The move

We traveled 2,250 miles in five days. Well, I did. Ben left a month ahead of me, taking a route through South Dakota to visit family in Spearfish. I have moved 10 times in my 25 years. Seven of those moves were to different states. Half have been in my adulthood. I know what it takes to move – planning, packing, canceling, re-establishing, forwarding, loading, driving, unloading. I realized anew this year how poorly I handle logistics. I called it decision fatigue. I am overwhelmed by filing all the correct paperwork that establishes our uprooting and replanting in another city, another part of the country. This is why we bank, fix our car, order Internet, maintain cell phone contracts with large companies, I realized. Because eventually we will move and we will want to take as much with us as we can to cut down on the hand-wringing.

You think you're saving money for a moving truck, and others are willing to help puzzle all your belongings into a small truck and the bed of a pickup, saving you $200 that you have reallocated to white paint that will brighten a basement apartment that otherwise feels like someone else's house. Then you pursue residency in your new state, fearful that you will be pulled over and quizzed on the exact date and time you moved into your home to determine if you have elapsed the allowed 30 days to apply for a new drivers license and register your vehicle. Before you know it, you've bought paint and spent another $300 to become a Washingtonian.

Moving is an arduous process. You have to really want it. The internal rearranging required in a cross-country move is more familiar to me. I've practiced since I was 7 years old. Find your anchors: explore coffee shops, get a library card, call home, write it down.

We are far, far from home. But we're so happy. Far from home, all alone. But we're so happy. (Of monsters and men)



My dad drove me from point A to point B. We arrived safely. My mom helped me paint. We drove around enough to learn the main streets. Pullman is small, and everyone seems to support the university where Ben works. Shop windows, barns, and street signs root for WSU, where groups of freshmen wander the campus for orientation. Downtown has three coffee shops, each with their own vibe. We set aside our pride/souls to shop at Walmart in absence of Target. We prefer Safeway. For major shopping, we go to Idaho, where sales tax isn't 8 percent.

What other details will explain where we are? I listen to Pandora when I write, and the song that's playing at the moment is the same that inspired the name of a post I wrote about moving to Bowling Green. Everything changes – nothing changes. It's the flow of life.

We've been busy since we moved. If you follow me on Instagram, you probably saw the mountain views and the trip home. I'm going to write about each of those soon.

I don't feel at home yet. I haven't developed a great routine and I feel a little lost. I assume it's because my books are still in boxes. It'll be sorted soon.