I’m mostly moved. Actually, so little is left in the Portland house that I can’t say I’m not moved. However, I’m back in Portland for several reasons, sleeping in my basement on an IKEA mattress with my daughter’s down comforter. Sitting here, even though I realize that Portland is not where I can be, and that I love how things are in Eugene, I feel the familiarity of this little house and miss it oh, so much. It is home to me. It is comfort, even with all the stuff gone and my children and animals not here, the house itself is comfort.

Today when I got here I discovered that someone had stolen the mature blueberry plants out of the back yard. They stole them and covered the holes in the ground, raking the mulch to look like they were never there. It made my heart sick. I hope whoever took them takes care of them and gives them the love that I did. I loved them. I still love them, wherever they are.

Reason number 8,347 why I hate Portland. I love this dear little house, but the city in which it resides is a bad place and I don’t want to live in it any more.