My wife, Susan, and I stepped out from happy hour at Serrano’s onto the sidewalk on Kearney Avenue in Portland’s Alphabet District.
The evening chill nibbled our necks but did not bite. Not enough for Susan to whip out a scarf or for me to turn my collar up. It was colder than we were used to, yet warmer than we’d ever known.
Yes. We could get used to this. The people. The place. The most walkable stretch of concrete I’ve ever seen. A foreign vibe so welcoming there was no need to shield ourselves from it.
Even the dogs walk differently here. Boxers bounce. Shelties saunter. Huskies hike perky butts in the air. Could be a projection of our “contact high” with the environs, but I don’t think so. Companion animals reflect their human parents. In this place, the parents greet you more often than not. And their animals are accepted in more establishments than you can imagine.
I could see our Lilly, the Boston terrier, making some fast friends here.
Susan and I huddled together. Not for warmth, but to contemplate the next chapter in our lives. We’d just had a deep confab with Melinda Hood, our newfound realtor, who could double as our shaman any day. She knew more about the local real estate market and the intricacies of the human spirit than any professional we’ve met. Melinda learned more about us in two hours than a good therapist might have in 20.
“You guys belong here, she said,” referring to this hip, homey and completely unassuming section of the city’s northwest.
I would have rolled my eyes if not for her earlier recalling how she scuttled a sure sale by dissuading a client from buying into what he later admitted would’ve been a palace of remorse. I’ve been massaged by glad-handers before. Melinda was the real deal.
We have so much to consider, Susan and I told each other. Our dear friends would be sorely missed. Healthcare costs were less than California. On the other hand, property taxes would be a financial pole vault. And how would Lilly transition from almost certain daily sun worshiping to playing peek-a-boo with blue skies.
The tips of my shoes peered over the curb’s edge at the northeast corner of 23rd Avenue and Irving Street. It was a scant eight inches down to the street and about 20 feet across to the other side.
Our next evolutional step in life could span light years.
We saw her before the lights changed; a needle-nosed mini wiener dog straining against her human’s leash toward us. She waddled and hopped like a baby seal on four tiny flippers. Her floppy ears ruffling in the air as would a lover’s flowing locks as they rush toward you.
The lights changed and we crossed the street. “Sheree’s” curved tail flickered wildly as we drew near. Her human smiled broadly. Susan and I dropped to our knees as if to offer a proposal. Sheree sprang into our laps and kissed us both on the lips.
Proposal accepted: we were anointed as would-be neighbors in the Pacific Northwest.
Soon, Lilly will join us for the next step toward ourselves.