On Leaving Washington, DC

Thirteen years is a long time to live in any one place. I moved to Washington, DC in 2011 when Barack Obama was still president, which is to say, what feels like a lifetime ago. By 2014 I was already feeling the call of the geographical blank slate and was only still here because I hadn’t yet decided which of the many possible futures I would choose for myself: a life in Austin? Denver? Vermont? Asheville? Portland? The other Portland? My generically-titled “Places to Live” spreadsheet was meticulously filled in with all the information relevant to my interests (cost of living, proximity to nature, and distance to a Wegman’s or a Trader Joe’s) and color-coded by region. Then one fated evening I went on a first date with a man that very nearly never turned into a second date. I had been “on the apps” as they say for many years at that point, except they weren’t even apps yet, just websites. I was pretty burnt out on dating at that point, and so I asked him what his experience with online dating had been like, hoping to commiserate. This man looked me in the eye, gave a sly smile, and drawled, “I’m just having a good time.” If you had told me in that moment to choose the true statement: that this man would become my husband or that Donald Trump would become the next president of the United States, I would have told you that both were obviously impossible, but ten years later here we are. 

For many years my now-husband’s job kept him (and me by association) tied to DC. A few years ago, though, that changed. We knew we wanted to get out of DC, but deciding on a place to go proved more of a challenge. Wherever we went still had to be close enough to one of his company’s offices for him to commute in occasionally, but I wasn’t excited about leaving DC only to move to another big city. Eventually, though, a visit to two of his California-transplanted siblings convinced us that the Bay Area was the right place for us to start fresh. (A new baby niece only served to sweeten the deal). 

Life conspired against us, and my experience with chronic illness starting in the beginning of 2024 delayed our plans significantly, but we are finally ready to go. We’ve said goodbye to our cabin, our home is under contract, the movers are booked, and the cat and the dog have no idea what’s coming for them (namely, being shoved under a coach seat for six hours on a westbound airplane).

Thirteen years has certainly been long enough for me to develop some rather firm opinions about the best places to eat and can’t-miss things to do in the city, and if you’re interested, those can be found after the paywall, below. Thanks for your support.