Leaving Seattle.

This both is and isn't a COVID-19 story. We lived in Seattle for 24 years. And it was time to go. For the last five years, we'd been thinking about where to retire - or to just change it up. But not really seriously. I would ask Jim when he thought he'd be ready to retire. And the answer was always in 2-3 years. It was a moving target. We needed that external push to do something. In October 2019, we had come up to Port Townsend to see a house on the market that in hindsight, we should have jumped on. We weren't ready. But it started the wheels turning. February 2020. Four months later, the entire world was changing. My dad - who had been diagnosed with stomach cancer in August 2017 took a turn for the worse. Jim and I hopped a plane and spent a week in Florida with my parents. Arriving home on February 11, global news of the virus was spreading quickly. After coming close - but not close enough - to finally launching Epicycled, Helen decided to retire and I started talking to people about what was next for me. I started quietly talking to people about opportunities. At the same time, we were planning a trip to Greece and Crete in the fall, but decided to hold off to see what the story was with this emerging virus, now that it was not only in China, but Italy. And a case was identified in Washington State.

March 2020. Meanwhile, Jim had found a new doctor and finally (we think) a diagnosis and treatment plan. It appeared that his brain was slowly deteriorating, yet his neuropsych evaluations year to year were fairly stable. The mainstream medical establishment seemed stumped. This new doctor and her treatment seemed promising, and after a few months there seemed to be improvement. At the same time, while he still can - and loves - work, navigating Seattle and other executive function activities were becoming increasingly challenging. In March, mom and dad decided to head back to Michigan early, worried about getting stuck in Florida as the pandemic was worsening. I began to realize that I wanted to be back in the workplace strategy game as this pandemic was shaping up to be a singular disruptive event and nothing would ever be the same again.

April 2020. In April, I got connected to the Advanced Workplace Associates (AWA), a London-based consultancy delivering workplace transformation to global organizations of all sizes and types. And oh, by the way, they'd been helping organizations work remotely, based on research and science for more than 20 years. Pinch me. My friend Michelle says I manifested this. Hmmm. Maybe.

May 2020. In the middle of my conversations with AWA, in early May, my dad went into the emergency room. In the middle of a pandemic. My mom couldn't go in with him due to COVID. My brother couldn't go into my parents' senior living community. Because of COVID. Eventually, dad chose to go into home hospice, and that choice allowed my brother Brian and sister-in-law Rachel to go see my parents. Jim was insistent that I needed to go, but I couldn't imagine how. In early May, no one was flying anywhere. After research and consideration, I got on a plane to Detroit. I bought a first class, one-way ticket. I had no idea how long I'd be there.

June 2020. My dad passed away on June 6. We had a small graveside service, live-streamed globally. Perry came for the funeral. It was good for the three of us to be together. In normal times, Jim, Elizabeth and all the kids would have been there too. Arriving home in mid-June, I was exhausted. It was a week or so until my birthday. My dad was 20 years older than me and had passed away, much earlier than we ever thought he would.

July 2020. I reconnected with AWA and in July, joined as Pacific Northwest Market Lead. Jim turned 70 and was having challenges with memory and executive function and I had just landed a new role with a virtual organization based in London.

August 2020. And then. Reading the news, thinking about another winter of COVID. I felt the force of the universe conspiring for us to make a shift. On August 4, my friend and Windermere Agent extraordinaire, Kim Wesselman, came over to discuss selling our house. As we sat on our newly reconstructed deck, in our masks, in the most perfect time of the year in the Pacific Northwest, she said with that deck we needed to sell when the weather is good. We could sell now. Or wait a year. After losing dad, Jim turning 70 and struggling with memory, what exactly were we waiting for? And as I got to know the AWA team better, I learned that many of the folks in the UK were not in London, but 2-3 hours outside of London. Hmmm. Why not use this time to make a transition?

September 2020. We spent August and early September getting the house painted, inside and out, getting rid of lots of stuff and staging the house to sell. With deep gratitude for Buy Nothing Queen Anne, NextDoor and OfferUP! The house went on the market on mid-September. A week later than planned due to wildfire smoke obscuring our view. It sold in 6 days.

October 2020. We spent October getting rid of yet more stuff and closed on the house on October 26. We secured a short term lease on a furnished condo in Kala Point in Port Townsend for six months and put an offer in on a small piece of land in the North Beach neighborhood as a back stop, but kept looking at houses and properties.

November 2020. Sam helped us move to the Kala Point condo November 3 in a U-Haul van. On November 4, the movers came, moving everything that was left into a storage unit in Poulsbo. Every time we went and walked our property, taking friends and family to see it, we got more and more attached and it started feeling like it was "ours." After a brief feasibility phase, we decided to proceed and build a prefab modular house. Of some sort. More on that in another post.

December 2020. We closed on the property on December 4. Just four months after meeting with Kim on our deck. The holiday season was quiet. With the virus raging, Dan and Sam opted to stay home and have a Zoom Thanksgiving, but not only came up here for Christmas, but cooked us Christmas dinner! We sat outside on the deck, under a tent canopy. New years was the quietest we've ever had, but significant in saying goodbye to 2020.

While in some ways we miss the house on Queen Anne, we don't miss living on Queen Anne. Or really Seattle. Maybe I'm just getting old. But the noise, crime, etc., was getting to me. Jim goes in roughly once a week for work or treatment and I've been going in once a month or so, which may increase to once every two weeks for a while. Stay tuned.