By the end of my first few months in Portland, it appears I could name only one thing I liked about this city.
For the most part I was working. For the most part I felt successful. For the most part I was so, so lonely. In March I instigated one breakup, of sorts, and in May, another. I found Alyssa, and then I found Shannon, and at some point a few months later, I looked down at the pile of rocks in my stomach, and they were holding themselves up in a little arch.
this home has one-hundred and seventeen fish in the kitchen and one cow in the living room
this home has a couch for sleeping, and a water filter for 3 a.m. refills
two bedroom doorways, angled conveniently for conversation
and cherry floors, and shamelessness
this home has a tendency to creak and penchant for escape
this home has two thermometers of bronze, silver, gold
and one right foot of solid lead
this home has a suspicion of mold, and the clear air of forgiveness
this home has two girls laughing in complete darkness
this home has good taste in plates and blankets and questionable taste in books
this home has yogurt on the stairs and rotting flowers on the dining room table
sixteen bell peppers wrinkling underneath the southern window
and one empty bedroom that can no longer reasonably be filled
this home has one girl turning on a light
My dear Shannon moved to Seattle yesterday, and although almost all of the furniture in this apartment remains mine, I can’t help but feel that in her absence, I’m left with a terribly empty home.
To my friends in Seattle: stay sharp out on the roads - she doesn’t look it, but this one’s a menace.
To Shannon: You became family quicker than most become friends. Of all the places you could have left to, I’m relieved you chose the one I visit every other week anyways. You belong up there, and out there, and I can’t wait to join you for some of your great escapes.
Hug your friends this Saturday,
Jordan
That last picture is my favorite!