Monday, August 9, 2010
Back To My Roots
We recently returned from a vacation to the beautiful Northwest coast. I was able to take my children to Portland, where I showed them my home, the elementary school, and the high school I attended, where I first fell in love with literature and decided I wanted to be a writer.
I loved the green trees in our campground, thick and fuzzy with moss, the light filtering down through needles and leaves. The air seemed rich with oxygen and smelled green--can you smell green? If so, it would smell like Oregon.
We built a big family sandcastle at the beach and did a lot of beach combing. I wiggled my feet down into the soft, fine-grained sand, as if I could root myself to the beach and stay there forever.
The water was too cold to swim in so the children gathered treasures of broken shells and limpets. They watched small crabs skuttle for shelter when dislodged from their homes under large rocks.
Something about being back where I grew up made me feel whole, filled, at home. It was as if the trees and moss were welcoming me back. I think a part of me will always be there, in the coastal forest, breathing in the rich air, so different from the dry mountain desert I have lived in for the past 23 years.