I would have updated sooner, but I spent the last few weeks focused on jumping from task to task to task that needed to be completed before leaving Jacksonville.

That’s right. You may have read it here, or on Facebook, or Twitter, or on some graffiti-covered wall, but it’s true: I’m moving to Boston to work for The Boston Globe.

Anyone who’s talked to me in the last 7 years has heard me rave about graphic storytelling, and pontificate about some of the great graphics people in the industry. Many of those people have worked at The Globe, and in the last four years, others I’ve raved about have moved to The Globe.

And anyone who’s talked to me in the last few years has within 0.003 seconds heard me mention my friends in Boston. That stable of friends has grown, and with that, my interest in the city. Each time I’ve visited, I’ve found more things to love about it.

So, I’m looking forward to all sorts of opportunities. I’ll be freelancing on my days off. (And if you need freelancing or know of anyone who will, let me know!)

That being said, it is not easy leaving Jacksonville. I was 24 when I got here, and I’m 29 now. In the four and a half years since I’ve been here, I’ve gone through many things through which the T-U family has been there for me. In addition to the “what does it all mean” phase of the mid-to-late 20s, I’ve lost loved ones, experienced family health scares and other big life experiences that tend to scare the shit out of you the first time you experience them. Having my friends at The Times-Union to support me meant the world to me, and to my family, who knew that as long as I was with there, I was OK.

Many journalists tend to throw themselves many miles (and states) away from “home” in order to work their way up the ladder, whether it be to get back “home” or to their dream papers. In pursuit of those goals, they sacrifice family time at holidays and the type of lives that our non-journalist friends might have taken for granted. In exchange, though, we develop these close “in the trenches” bonds that remind me of old war movies where people give their lives for each other.

But, as my mother has said, “We’ll be family no matter where we brush our teeth.” And so, I don’t worry that I will see these people many times again, in Jacksonville, Boston and beyond. And, I’ve been fortunate to experience the warmth and kindness of my new co-workers. (It helps that one of my best friends will sit spitting distance from my new desk).

So, from a hotel room in Fayetteville, N.C., en route to Boston, I’m signing off. Don’t worry, though; it won’t be this long until you hear from me again.