When I was in the car waiting to enter Crater Lake National Park during my visit to Oregon, a Michigan license plate on the red truck in front of me warmed my heart. Under the plate was the shape of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, which looks a bit like a fish.

When viewed on the United States map, this area seems part of Wisconsin because it borders that state. It doesn’t touch the state of Michigan that most recognize. That’s why so many people don’t know about its existence. The Mackinac Bridge is the only way to reach the Upper Peninsula of Michigan if coming from Lower Michigan.

When I saw the license plate and the U.P. symbol while in Oregon, the curious part of me wondered what, if any, meaning lay in this occurrence for me. I certainly took a moment to ponder, but nothing came up for me. So, I let it go with fond recognition of its importance in my life.

This evening, I had a phone call with my Yooper parents.

A ‘yooper’ is a person who lives in the U.P. – the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If you say the letter U and then the letter P quickly, you might hear the word “yoop.” Thus, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is the yoop, and a person who lives there a yooper. I. LOVE. WORDS.

I met them while renting my first house in the Marquette area of Michigan. Living across the street from them, we met in the field across from my house when our dogs were out. We also walked the loop in the woods together.

After my initial lease was up, Finn, Dexter, and I stayed in their house while they wintered in a warmer locale.

This offer has become available to me once again.

This presents an interesting opportunity: the chance to winter in the U.P. – an experience that’s heaven on earth – and move west in early Spring next year. There are lots of pros to this plan – I’d get to polar plunge, hang with Rod, walk the shoreline with Finn, hike the ice caves, take advantage of the winter walk at night through the lantern-lit path at the park, see that sky with those stars every single night, watch the snow fall so peacefully every day, smell that crisp, clean air, rock hound Grand Marais before winter comes, and I have to stop there or this will never end.

There are only two cons, and honestly, con is too strong of a word:

1. I will be delaying what I know I want to do: move out West.
2. I’m afraid I will not want to leave Michigan. 

There are experiences out West that are unique to that area, those people, and that way of living. I want to experience all of it. I sense that my greatest truth will be discovered within that environment.

Michigan calls me in a way nearly indescribable. It feels like home. More than Columbus, Ohio, has ever felt. It’s a different kind of feeling of home. It’s comfortable. It’s just me.

I fear this comfort and its seductive qualities will distract me from this plan. I’m afraid of changing my mind to move West. And if I do, I’m so scared of regretting that decision later.

There’s still a part of myself that I don’t trust, and perhaps being willing to admit that this evening in this blog post will help me to become acquainted with it. As long as I move from Ohio to Oregon or Northern California (the Tahoe area has been having its way with me lately), I know it will happen according to plan. I have a different, lesser confidence if I make a pit stop in the U.P. for the winter. But I secretly want to do just that.

The 30-day plan to move to Oregon isn’t happening. Just the 30-day part of the plan, though. I’m ready to jump ship once I feel good about the right job opportunity. It may take only a few more weeks or a few months. I can’t control this part of the plan, so I must continue being flexible. And now, I have an opportunity to delay this plan more methodically.  

Perhaps the plan mayn’t reach fulfillment in that 30-day period because a detour through the Yoop on the way out West is the best way for me to navigate this move. Perhaps this is the plot twist I didn’t see coming.

We’ll see what these next eight days bring… I’m open, Universe. Completely open.