Kansas City, Here I Come

Or, more accurately, Kansas City, Here I've Been.

It's been two weeks since I've left Portland. And since then, I've been to nine states: Oregon, Washington, Georgia, Missouri, Kansas, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Iowa. It's been a busy few weeks. It's keeping my mind away from being currently unemployed (which really, I'm not, considering I've kept up my income and then some freelancing ... thank goodness).

My days are filled with applying for jobs, working on freelancing, sending out packets of cover letter, resume, clips, cover letter, resume, clips.

And somewhere in between, I went to a good friend's wedding, saw my friends from college, came home, (cover letter, resume, clips, yet again) then went up to Des Moines for a few days. I mostly went to get a bit more freelance work, but ended up squeezing all I love about Des Moines into 48 hours: went to the fair (you do know it's on of the 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, right?), had salad and pizza at Centro, enjoyed wine and cheese on a good friend's porch, had a bean burrito at El Rodeo, sat outside at Snookies, and woke up early to spend all morning at the world's best farmers market (sorry, Portland, I love you, but Des Moines kicks your butt when it comes to farmers markets).




I realized one thing: I'm lucky. I'm a lucky lucky lucky girl. Not only do I have friends all across the country, I have good friends who honestly care about me and my happiness and success. And who will eat bad Mexican food with me, go for a swirl cone at Snookies right afterward, then sit around and watch the Olympics on a Friday night.



For a while upon coming back to KC and leaving Portland, I was afraid I couldn't really ever come home again; that things change too quickly and they won't ever quite be the same when you return. To be honest, I did feel a bit like an outsider in Des Moines, not living there anymore. And I think what I'm really afraid of is that some day, I'll go back to Portland and it will be so different than when I was there this year -- that Portland will have forgotten me.

But, I never felt such a warm homecoming as when I did going back to Des Moines. I was booked solid with breakfasts, lunches, coffees, and dinners. I can only hope New York welcomes me back with such open arms; and that Portland will, too, when I find my way back there even for just a visit.