Moving Home or Leaving Home

There is a saying that wherever you go, there you are, but sometimes you go where you were, and there you are now. Places change, and so do we. It is easier to imagine a place I have never been to be a greener pasture than to imagine where I am from being great again. I am finishing up a visit “home” in Portland, Oregon, and it always triggers different emotions and ideas. Like, should I move back?

Nostalgia: I think of what I fondly remember of Oregon. Some aspects will never change, like the beautiful landscapes and breathtaking nature. I love seeing the white-capped mountains and know that is where the East is. I was there in spring, and I watched trees go from bare to flowering in a matter of a day.

There are the parts that only nostalgia will remember that isn’t expected to have stayed. Up until I moved east, I thought I wouldn’t ever leave. I thought Portland was the perfect place; it almost seemed built for a guy like me. Things change, and it wasn’t what I loved anymore. It became strange and unrecognizable as I lived there, so I took it when I could leave it for somewhere else.

Almost every road I go down in Portland has a story. I have memories. A street sign can make me laugh or cry. Even the smell of sunbaked firs after a rainstorm stirs up visions of the past and faces that I have forgotten the names of. Some of those memories drift into thinking of returning while knowing I could never relive what has already been lived.

Rhode Island is very nostalgic. Every place is recognized by what used to be there or next to it. A local will say, “It used to be…” or “It’s next to the old…”. From the small amount of time I have spent here, I have found that changes are much slower and less than desired. If something rocks the boat, people become agitated and make it known.

I have always found nostalgia a defect of character. If someone focuses on a particular time, culturally or otherwise, then I know that person will not want any progress. They fear the unknown. Not being able to recognize a song is some people’s worst nightmare. I think there is a healthy amount of nostalgia, especially when we are around family and old friends, but to stay there is true insanity.

I still miss many family and friends in Oregon, and I miss them a lot. They are irreplaceable. Sometimes, I have too many days of discomfort when socializing in Rhode Island, and I just got done having comfortable social interactions with my old friends. I have friends that I haven’t spoken to in a year, and we left off as if I had never left, and some of the people in Rhode Island feel like starting over every time I run into them. Sometimes, I miss that comfort and knowing.

I have developed many friends in Rhode Island who are still developing. I can’t expect thirty-plus-year relationships in three years. It’s hard to feel attachment or trust that someone will be there when I need them. I have to return to faith in people, which is scary.

I mainly moved to Rhode Island to buy a house with my wife. Now we are separated, and while we have maintained a close friendship, the main reason for living in Rhode Island isn’t there anymore. When I am asked by people I have more recently met, I hate telling the story, and for people back in Oregon who didn’t know the whole story, they look at me and wonder why I am still out there.

One main reason is that I can afford to live alone in Rhode Island. It isn’t the most ideal neighborhood, but I can have a one-bedroom apartment for less than $1200. I had never lived completely alone before, and it has become hard to imagine never living alone again. Just going into the kitchen and not having anxiety about making food at the same time as a roommate is enough for me to love it.

I can’t afford to live in Oregon anymore. Finding comfort and stability in Portland almost sounds like someone wanting to live in New York City and just going on a never-ending grind of making sure the bills are paid. Living in Portland, Oregon, should never feel like that.

I’m too old and stubborn to live in punk houses or a place with many roommates. I love my privacy and solitude too much. I even think of looking at more affordable areas less desirable to get more bang for my buck, like in the South or the Midwest. I love going to bed and waking up alone.

That’s not to say I don’t miss companionship. I’ve been single for a long time now, but I am not looking for a roommate or relationship. I want to watch movies and eat at good restaurants with someone. I want to go on walks and talk with someone. I want to feel the warmth of someone. The dating apps have been interesting, but the results would require their own blog entry to discuss what is happening there.

I can say that the short time I spent in Oregon had much more positive results on the apps than the almost two years I have spent on them in Rhode Island. I translate much better on the apps in Oregon than I do in Rhode Island and Southern Massachusetts. I am getting more interest, and the options have been much better. Then I worry: Do I live alone but single in Rhode Island for the rest of my life or live with many people in a house in Oregon just for love?

I have read many writers, and they always have a few common themes in their work. I thought that I would be able to transcend and speak to more themes than a few, but alas, I am always returning to the idea of “home” and trying to find it.

I have been near a place, both in space and in time, where I have felt the nearness of that home, and maybe I have found it, but then it turns out to be a mirage in the desert. There wasn’t an oasis on the horizon. I have chosen to stop looking out there and just put my efforts into helping others. If I find home, I find it, but I can’t be distracted from enjoying life or finding meaning by looking for it.

I could move back to Oregon and be fine, but it isn’t the Oregon I grew up in anymore. It’s a foreign place now. I don’t know Rhode Island as well as I know Oregon. I’ve only been in RI for three and a half years, the longest I have ever lived outside of Portland, Oregon. I can drive to some places without maps, but other parts of the state are entirely unknown. It’s hard not to know everywhere and be able to go there with confidence.

Some things will never get better with time in Rhode Island. The driving here is insane and dangerous. I could breathe, and my shoulders dropped below my ears when I was on the roads in Portland. Not only were the drivers non-threatening, but there were also fewer bumps and holes in the road. The treatment of the environment will always be horrendous here. The amount of litter on the side of the streets, in people’s yards, and the middle of the woods is a horror movie. Last year, when I came back from Oregon, I was walking behind a business guy eating a Dunking Donuts sandwich out of a bag, and when he was done, he just dropped it on the ground – inside the airport.

These are minor issues when you see the beautiful coastline, eat at all the fantastic cuisine options, see the number of diners, and enjoy the thriving art scene and the great people who live here. There are many reasons it is great here in Rhode Island, and one of those reasons is that I am here. April Fool’s Day, I am staying in Rhode Island.