leaving

I suppose that when you’re supposed to leave, you’re supposed to leave. And when you doubt if and when you are supposed to leave, the Universe has a way of keeping you on track .

The day before I left Portland, I was walking through a grocery store, trying to shake off my doubts by imagining the wonderful food I would be eating in France and especially Spain over the next month. I then thought of my partner and had a brief pang of guilt, as he’s holding the down fort and Squirrel-sitting while I’m gone, and won’t be a part of such culinary enjoyments. For a second, I wish I could just give him all of the food, right there.

And then I turn the corner in the store, and right in front of me is a clearance shelf full of Spanish import food. Boxes of paella for a dollar each, along with endless other goodies. I hear laughter as I stand there, staring in awe. 


So we will both be having paella in the next month, 7,000 miles apart. 

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