After a month of my fingerprints traveling around the continent, the FBI confirmed to the State of Texas MEG HOLLE IS NOT A TERRORIST… YET so we’ll keep them in case she breaks, puts her mucky digits in the wrong place.

Librarians, we’re the worst, we never rest, men in black will march to the reference desk, muzzle cries of access, freedom to read, information privacy, making inner worlds safe for democracy, enriched and courageous, one worth embracing.

My reflection smug in mirrored glasses GUILTY! they’ll cuff me, drag me kicking from the beastly, brutalist Austin Public Library.

It’s true! I’m not a terrorist! And after a six-month hiring process, I will be a librarian at Faulk Central Library in downtown Austin, Texas. I am over the moon tower, inside and out my body and mind, familiar feelings flooding of packing up my life pre-exodus for Vancouver—the wistfulness, decisiveness, excitement and stern. This gem I’m taking with. This junk I’m throwing away.

It’s strange, though. I thought Minneapolis was home, especially when away from it, learning how to become a librarian in Canada. After I returned in 2009, I mostly ached for BC but was determined to make the Cities new again, and I did. They were. But still. It’s not that something’s missing. “Home” has not failed me. I don’t want “more” in the sense that I’m lacking, and lawd I’m going to miss my family.

Nevertheless…adventure awaits. A new, fun city to poke around the edges of, bike clear across, find the beating heart and claim my favorite veins. Swimming holes to clean my sweat off in. The best damn boy with the best imagination, in his bird mask, with his map of the universe, his actor dog that rules the roost and other dog with the name of a fish that sounds like a cat and acts like maniac but still wins hearts.

I can’t wait.

Friday was my last day of old work, bittersweet for the colleagues I’ll miss and the hole I leave behind. Friends pooled money to bestow this majesty:

LOVE OVERFLOWING! I’m blessed with opportunity. I’m blessed with friends and family who want nothing but the best for me, Midwest stoic hide the bleak emotions eclipsed by wishing me well.

Thanks, everyone. I treasure you all. I can’t wait to tell you stories of tacos and dust, bats and fire ants, book clubs and my crappy Spanish, street bands, Shiner Bock, cacti blooms and shadows I swear are snake bodies and chasing down comets with my love.