My boyfriend, Alex, and I have been living in Chicago for about six years. We both love the city life and everything that comes with it: finding a parking spot semi close to where we’re going, the EL train going by at all hours of the night, and of course the lights beaming off the buildings in the hot Midwest sun. But we were ready for a change; I just didn’t know it was actually going to come.
While enjoying a volcano roll at one of our staple sushi joints, Alex told me that he had been interviewing for a job at the University of Washington in Seattle and that they now wanted him to meet the team. I didn’t know what to say and blurted out: “Oh, well, good luck” as if we hadn’t been dating for three years and that this didn’t mean anything for us.
But it did mean something.
“Uh, thanks, but what about you and me?” he said. After I realized I stumbled over my initial response, I quickly said exactly what I felt: “You know if you get it, I’ll move out there with you.” And after that, our minds went into Seattle-mode.
After an extended vacation/friend’s wedding in the Dominican Republic, it was time for him to fly to Seattle, put his game face on and hope for the best. It was a grueling day: four hour flight there, four hours of interviews, four hour flight back to Chicago. He didn’t hear anything back for over a week, but then the phone call came.
I was sitting outside at a coffee shop when my phone buzzed with a new text message: “We are moving to Seattle” it said. I gasped and couldn’t stop smiling; our journey had begun.