We finally did it: we booked plane tickets to California. We even booked a hotel for our first week. We're really moving West. Way West. To a new state (for me), a new city (for us both). It seems hard to believe that I'll be living somewhere I've never even visited; all the other moves of my life have been to cities I'd been to at least once before--I had some sense of the spirit of the place. Not so with Sacramento.
I have absolutely no image in my mind about what our life there will be like. I know we'll have a car (from where? what kind? how have we managed to buy it?) and I know we'll likely be living in either downtown Sacramento or Davis (can I walk to the grocery store? is there a cafe where I can sit outside? will there be a Target nearby?) in some sort of rented arrangement (will we manage to find something furnished? will we be sleeping on an air mattress? will the apartment be charming or soulless? will there be someplace outside where I can write?). And the city: is there a downtown? are there cafes? are there nice restaurants? is there a nice park? And if we stay--what are property prices like? could we actually buy a house sooner rather than later? We know nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Strangely, however, we're both getting excited. Now that the move is certain (well, at this point it's about 98% certain), the idea of Moving To California has started--just started--to sink in. Sort of. I guess it's more like the idea is brushing the skin, making its presence known gently, waiting patiently for us to have a moment to actually realize what we're doing. Moving West. We can visit Alaska, Hawaii, Reno, San Francisco, wine country, Seattle. I'll swim in the Pacific for the first time. We'll be earning money again, cooking dinner again, reassembling some semblance of a regular life. It's a nice idea. We're both ready, I think, to get the next stage started. And it will start--how did this happen?--in the West.
We leave in three days.