It was hard to leave. It hit me in the last week and each day got harder. I finished up teaching two drawing classes just the day before leaving and found myself with little time to visit, pack properly, help John with the current studio project and set the house in order. I got the car tuned up, washed the dogs, handed off my neighborhood business. There was a good bye drink a few days before and, as I packed long into the final night, my neighbor laid some flowers on the car to start me on the way. I didn’t think I would cry when I left…but I did. Boy did I cry. I missed John and the dogs like it had been years before I even hit the highway. I was panicky and I considered turning back. When I turned onto I84 East, away from Portland, I let out the loudest and longest scream of my life.