Being Home

I cannot even convey how wonderful it is to be home. It must be more of that body memory stuff but I feel my cells vibrating with a new frequency, a sigh of relief to be home. It's odd to be in the place where I spent all my formative years; walking the same streets I ran and biked as a child. I feel as though I transcend time and can be all those Maraiyas at once.

We are staying in my dad's house, the house where I lived from the age of 6 years until I married and moved out at 22. My dad's wife has redone everything; the walls are bright shades of warm colors instead of the cool palates I remember. The furniture is all hers. It is the same home and yet vastly different. My mom is no where and that saddens me; I miss seeing her face, her smiles and her dimples. And yet, my mom is everywhere. There are memories of her at this desk and in her kitchen. I am sleeping in my parent's former bedroom and I cannot walk in the room, despite it's new look, without thinking of her, particularly her last moments alive, which happened in that very room. Time does seem to stand still; then and now meld into one; I can see her, feel her and yet know with certainty that she is not in this moment.

I walked with my children this morning from our house to Mia's. The air was cool but comfortable; the sun was shining brilliantly. The mountains stood all around me with their patchy snow covered peaks peaking at me. The cruise ships were already docked, 4 in today, and the stacks emitted a streak of blue smoke; a bit of smog hanging over my pristine channel. The air smelled so much fresher than in Western Oregon. The tide was a low one and I could smell salt in the air and seaweed. I smile and the heavens seem to be smiling at me. Rhys even agreed that the air smells better here. I walked past homes that I remember - so little has changed. I even glanced at a home, Mr. and Mrs. Bayer used to live there, as I looked I saw an old woman in the window and I would swear it was Mrs. Bayer. She smiled at me. People in cars waved at me, even though they don't know me. Everyone slowed down when they saw my children walking on the street. Despite not really knowing anyone, there is a familiarity and politeness I don't find even in the small community in which I live in the lower 48.

I love giving my children the gift of my own childhood, even for just a few weeks. I love this crossing of past and present even though it is surreal at the same time. I'm happy to be here.