This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I’m sensing a certain sense of excitement as the pace of change accelerates around our house.

We are preparing for the next — and more than likely final — big step in our journey together. My wife, who’s an expert at house packing, is working hard to get our worldly possessions boxed up, put away and is clearing out rooms.

Do not ask me when the change will occur. I am not prepared to reveal a date-certain. Just know that as we continue this transition, which will include a significant relocation, that we’ve decided to speed the process up.

This might not seem like a big deal to you. It is to me.

I used to dread the idea of moving. That dread stayed with me until we moved from Oregon to Texas in the spring of 1984. We relocated because of a huge job opportunity that emerged on the Texas Gulf Coast. The four of us — myself, my wife and our two young sons — migrated to Beaumont.

The move itself offered a huge personal surprise, apart from the obvious culture shock we felt when we moved from the Pacific Northwest to a region I refer to affectionately as “Baja Louisiana.” The surprise was when I realized my own adaptability.

I had spent my entire life in the Portland area, except for a couple of years in the Army in the late 1960s. When opportunity knocked, I answered the call and responded by uplifting our family and moving them halfway across the country.

We found our way to Amarillo nearly 11 years later. I followed another big career opportunity to the High Plains. Then my career ended more than four years ago. Our transition toward retirement commenced a bit earlier than we anticipated, but we have figured out how to navigate our way toward that end.

We don’t intend to make as lengthy a move this time. It’s big nonetheless.

My tendency to be a stick-in-the-mud is giving way to some serious excitement about the changes that lie ahead.

Who knew?