• I moved to Portland, Oregon, from the west edge of Denver for mostly practical reasons.
• My rent was lower, but I missed my friends and struggled to adjust to the wet weather.
• I realized I had to put in years of work to feel at home in the Pacific Northwest.

In 2017, when I was 66 years old, I moved to Portland, Oregon, after 40 years in Colorado.

My stream of income had ended abruptly, I was having issues with my landlord, and I was tired of almost nonstop snow and sunshine.

Plus, my brother and his wife offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse: low rent in an apartment building they owned in Portland. They promised to update the unit and give me a lifelong lease.

The move made sense for me financially and practically, but it wasn’t easy emotionally.

It took a lot of effort, eight years, and multiple trips back to Denver to convince me I’d stay in Portland for the long haul.

The first few years of living in Portland were especially difficult — I had to push myself to establish connections

I physically and emotionally struggled to adjust after the move.

Even my curly hair, manageable in Colorado, was out of control in the Portland humidity. It didn’t know how to adjust.

For the first few years, I felt depressed by the city’s cloudy, cold, and wet winter weather. I felt like I could never get warm.

Although I thought I’d be prepared for less sunshine, I ended up buying a Seasonal Affective Disorder lamp, purchasing “mood” supplements, and taking Vitamin D (“the sunshine vitamin”) daily to cope with the season.

I also underestimated how difficult it would be to start over in a new community without roots, especially since the only friends I had nearby was my brother.

Eventually, I began pushing myself to connect with my surroundings instead of just surviving in them.

I started a local chapter of the national writers’ organization I belonged to. I took a part-time job so I could meet people, attended networking gatherings, and met my neighbors on daily walks.

I also began discovering new favorite spots, like Portland’s wine country about 30 minutes away. I drove there often, which helped me missed my Colorado mountain views a little bit less.

Plus, I found a curly-hair specialist and began making appointments.

After 8 years, and several trips back to Denver, Portland feels like home

Since I moved, I’ve made several trips back to Colorado, and each seems to reaffirm my decision to leave.

When I visit Denver, my skin is no longer used to the dry weather. Big-box stores have replaced many of my favorite small shops and old friends and sisters who were once my neighbors have scattered geographically.

The last time I returned from Denver was in June. I still remember the refreshing feeling of leaving its 90-degree weather and walking out of the Portland airport to the welcoming chill of 60 degrees.

On my way home, I picked up groceries from the local market, where I now know people by name. I visited my naturopath, who has become my confidante in the eight years I’ve been here, and made plans to meet up with a now-good friend over lunch.

What I had missed about Denver I have now found here — I needed only to see it.

My social circles and friendships have been going strong. The city’s winter weather no longer depresses me and I finally have money in the bank and feel financially secure.

When I first moved to Portland, my therapist, who specializes in relocations, told me it would take eight years to feel at home here. She was right.

Now, instead of pining for the past, I see what is before and what is ahead. I’m here to stay.