Four months left

Four more months in Seattle... Four months to be treasured, a jewel... Four months of a huge kitchen to cook in, endless food supplies stored in abundance... Four months of a big mattress, controllable temperatures, walls and regular shelter... Four months of a closet full of clothes, of knick-knacks, a giant TV at only our disposal, doors only we can lock.  Four more months of neighborhoods we know: the best bakeries, coffee shops, cheapest fruit, best Thai, Mexican, all-night diners; best walks, best movie theatres, best parks and views and festivals... Four months of fitting in, speaking the language, knowing the culture, knowing the safe and unsafe places, knowing how to get food and money, warmth, clothes, shelter... knowing it all, safe comfortable, beautiful, mostly easy in Seattle, full of flowers and crosswalks, intellectual, quirky, progressive, rarely freezing, rarely sweltering, often dismal but generally mild... complaints we know, jokes we know, people we know... Our own cupboards, closet, storage, backyard, dining room, living room, oven, stove, pots and pans and kitchen knives, laptops, mail, projector screen, couches, bed, dressers, chairs, car... Green Lake Park, Julia's Bakery, Scarecrow Video, Cafe Diablo, Flying Apron, Theo Chocolate, Fremont, Dim Sum King, Trader Joe's, the Public Library, Cinerama, Beth's Cafe, Greenwood, and our house.
Seeing all these places for the last time (or at least the last time for a year, or more) is too big to contemplate, because these are the places of my life now.  But for every place lost, for every friendly face said goodbye to, there will be 10, 20, 100 more, I believe.  We will have to say goodbye to Mike at Julia's-- but how many wonderful bakeries, friendly, bright-faced bakers will we meet? Goodbye to Green Lake and its beautiful water and trees--but how many beautiful views, oceans and lakes, fields and hills and vistas will we see?  Even Beth's... there may be no other 12 egg omelets (and perfect crispy hash browns served up with paper and crayons to draw with), but how many pubs and chip shops, family-run cafes, even hostels and homes where we'll eat welcoming, greasy, delicious comfort food?  And our home-- how many couches and floors and beds kindly offered by friends and strangers, how many party-filled hostels (maybe too many parties...) will we stay in... And how many mornings will we wake up camped on grass, between trees, or on the floors of abandoned old farmhouses, and sit in the fresh air while we heat water on our camp stove for breakfast...
The scope of my missing my current comfort is too big to understand now, because now I have curiosity, adventure and challenge and freedom, of being strange, new, uncomfortable, in awe, pushed, struggling, alive, courageous, joyous and great, calling me... So much so that, though it would be unwise for many reasons-- no visas, not much biking endurance, no route plans, no plane tickets, not quite enough money, the worst time to travel, and not practiced with equipment, or even much of it bought-- I want to chuck it all now, to quit our jobs, sell our stuff, and leave right away, tomorrow.