Ms. Rita is a woman we met at the tail end of our yard sale the last weekend before we moved, although she didn't swoop in until the very last moment, when everything unsold was listed under "Free and For Sale" on Craigslist. Soon after, approximately four different hazard-light-blinking SUVs pulled onto our street.
Ms. Rita had the most time to chat, and the most space in her vehicle, an almost fully tinted 2000s-era Sienna.
"Where are you all moving?" she asked as she loaded 2 folding chairs, a folding TV-dinner table, and glass container-propagated cuttings into her Mary Poppins-like vehicle.
"We're actually going on a six-month road trip—"
"Let me show you something."
Confused, I followed her to her SUV, as she slid open the door sidewalk-side. Inside she revealed and proceeded to enumerate her entire minivan campervan setup, complete with a foam mattress on plywood, a mini toilet, many, many bins of utensils and tools, and even more stories of hers from the road. Ms. Rita had just returned from her first campervan trip as a retiree after decades of public service as an elementary school teacher in Oakland. (Some local context for ya: OUSD has been managing a multi-million dollar deficit for years and nearly closed five schools last year.)
"You know, here in Oakland, we see green. But up there, it's a different kinda green."
She was referring to the Pacific Northwest, where Will and I just spent an entire month in arguably its best city, Portland, OR.