When the road rises to meet you, give thanks for how far you’ve come

I’m admittedly a visceral fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal.
When I decided to make the move from Pennsylvania to Oregon in April 2016, I hardly had a plan.
I awoke from a fever dream with the decision to move out west.
That was it.
It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t need to.
As I’ve realized, sometimes the best decisions are made that way; sometimes, prospects outweigh logic, and that’s exactly how my story unfolded.
A couple days after the decision, I put in my two weeks notice at the . . .