One of the glories of vacation, and unemployment, is the gift of time. This morning after I stopped to get a cup of coffee in Suburban Station for the last time I sat down on a bench and lingered. I lingered on my coffee: not enough milk; lingered on the stairwells that belched out busy people crisscrossing one another. Magnificent bedlam it was, and I had a front row seat. For whatever reason, hanging out in the train station this morning felt good. Nowadays people spend so much time on those da%# smart phones we hardly take the time to greet one another on the street, or acknowledge one another's presence on the bus. I think I should make sitting in a train station a habit, employed or not.
My time in Philadelphia has come to a close and last night supplied the perfect bookend. Nearly two years ago I bundled up and met Stephanie Kleven near 21st and Locust, a Seattlite new to the area who was also adjusting to life in the City of Brotherly Love. Last night it ended nearly the same way it began. Very close to the same intersection, bundled up and full of optimism, Stephanie and I embraced for the last time as fellow Philadelphians. I cannot tell you how many times that woman and I cried together over ex-boyfriends, our own self-indulgence, the troubles of the world, and the strong, vibrant thread of faith runs through it all. Strength and wisdom are hard won and I think she and I have gained a little of both these last two years.
Off to Portland to hang with the fam for awhile. I am temporarily relocating to the Pacific Northwest while I look for a job. My boyfriend Clark may be joining me for awhile (yes, totally publicly acknowledging the fact that I am dating) and am feeling refreshed and ready to jump back in the game. Six weeks in Europe does a soul good. More on that soon. I have some good stories, people.
