Some 21 months ago I moved out of my little rental house in central Texas. I gave up a bunch of my stuff, put a bunch more in storage, and moved into a van named Foxy. I spent 8 months and change traveling the country in Foxy with my little dog Hops, and then nearly a year ago I moved into a little rental house in Buckhannon, West Virginia, where I tried a new thing: teaching college English. This month I trekked back to Texas to clear out my storage unit. I’ve moved all my things into the house here in Buckhannon. I sold the van – Foxy has a new owner and while she’s aging, I hope they’ll get a few more adventures in before she’s done. Hops is aging, too. I’ve been awarded a second year’s teaching fellowship. I’ve fallen in love with my new home – I’ve made great friends, gotten involved in a great community of mountain bikers and trail builders and advocates, and I’m working to invest myself in this place. I’ve taken legal residency in West Virginia after 11 months of living here uncommitted. I want to make this work.
The symbolic and emotional significance of legal residency, selling Foxy, and moving my stuff out of storage is enormous. It feels a bit precious to put that out there; it’s an intimacy to share, and it all feels insignificant in the face of a global pandemic and the rightful and righteous unrest over the United States’ racial inequities. But it’s what I’m experiencing right now, and I wanted to say so.
Thank you for following me in and out of houses and vans and geographic loyalties over nearly the last two years. This will be my last post here, I think, although I plan to keep the site active, at least for the foreseeable; it’s a valuable reference point for me. Thanks for letting me share.