FROM LONG TO LONGER

Dan Fogelberg took the word longer and made it romantic.

Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you.

 

My long-distance relationship is about to be longer. No so romantic. From Vancouver to Seattle, the distance is 150 miles. A three-hour drive, with a tunnel that backs up, the border crossing and a final crawl until the Space Needle comes into view. In the nearly two years we’ve been seeing each other, I took a sea plane once, the train another time. Mix things up a bit. We sometimes met at in-between spots, each of us taking different ferries to Victoria, a cabin on Whidbey Island, a campsite, and Airbnb in farm country. 

 

But so long, Seattle. Evan got a terrific job opportunity he couldn’t turn down. (We talked about it for weeks and neither of us wavered from our gut response: “Do it!”) This morning the movers came and loaded up his things. We have two more days in a Seattle apartment, entirely empty but for three suitcases and an air mattress. I’m writing this while sipping a Caffe Vita oat latte in a vibrant open space adjoining KEXP radio studio as the station’s eclectic playlist pipes through the speakers and I gaze at the Space Needle, a short walk away. In this city I love, these are a few of my favorite things.  

 

The job is in Denver and, no, it’s not one of those work remotely deals. While known as the Mile-High City, it’s almost ten times the distance compared to Seattle: 1,440 miles away. Three days’ drive instead of three hours. (The days of driving seventeen hours straight and sleeping in autobody parking lots ended three decades ago.) 

 

If one of us had moved to Sydney or Singapore, I’m sure we’d have accepted the change of circumstance, committing to make it work. But that kind of physical separation lends itself to clearer guideposts. Four visits per year perhaps. Two for him, two for me. See you next season. Romantic. Cue Dan Fogelberg.

I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings.

Does the fact the song’s lyrics are accompanied by a harp and flugelhorn make them more compelling or less real?

 

The Vancouver-Denver distance is middling and thus a tad muddled. We won’t be seeing each other three weekends in four, but once a season sounds too sparse. Visits will be negotiated more in terms of frequency and length. For the most part, we’ve alternated between Vancouver and Seattle. For the future though, I’ll be collecting more frequent flyer miles. I can write anywhere. With a nod to Dr. Seuss: In a plane, on the train, on a boat, across a moat. On a box, in striped socks, beside a fox that’s wearing polka-Crocs. Oh, the places I’ll write! Here, there and everywhere. And now Denver.

 

Relationships have to adapt. Denver I shall adopt. The move is a return for Evan. He lived there two decades ago. His parents and other relatives are near, as are friends from high school and university. Lots of pluses, but he will miss the Pacific Northwest. I’m not the only one who thinks Seattle is awesome, a place of trolls, a monorail that goes practically nowhere, free bananas for those who venture to the heart of Amazonland and a destination wall to add your chewed up wad of Hubba Bubba Sour Blue Raspberry bubblegum before taking and posting a selfie NO ONE wanted to see. The city can’t match the Keep Portland Weird vibe, but it tries (especially in Fremont). No doubt, his return, while offering the chance to rekindle connections, is laced with confusion. Is going back going backward?  

 

I have connections to the city as well. My sister now lives less than an hour away, my niece and her new baby are in one of the suburbs and a university friend is a prof at the University of Denver. After three decades in my corner of Canada, I’m not sure how close any of those relationships are. 

 

As for Evan and me as a couple, we’ll be closer to his family cabin (half an hour out of the city), his Airstream in Taos, New Mexico and plenty of new hiking adventures, one of our core common interests. I’ve already pitched a road trip to Moab, Utah and Antelope Canyon in Arizona. My Instagram will have better pics than some wall coated with saliva and spearmint. 

 

I’ll find whatever quirk Denver has on offer. Already, I’m wanting to eat at Casa Bonita, a kitschy Mexican restaurant with cliff divers and newly renovated by the creators of South Park (for realz). Another Insta post! Plus there will be dozens of new cafés to try out as writing locales. We’ll find new bike routes, too. We’ll make new memories.

 

Of course, as rosy as I try to spin things, there are plenty of unknowns. What if? What about? When will? How long? I prefer questions with answers. For all others, I’m just going to bat them away. Plug my ears. La-la-la. Sorry. Can’t hear you!

 

We’ll figure it out. (Fingers crossed.)

 

Longer in distance, but hopefully closer in the ways that truly count.