Homebody

This is a picture of the city where I grew up. It's a view that's familiar to me, and still breathtaking after all these years.

.

I come from the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean. From nearly endless rain and gray skies. From tsunami territory. From fishing and logging territory. From fresh fish markets and barges on the river and moss growing in the sidewalk cracks. I come from green. So many shades of green...light green lichen growing on forest green evergreens growing on kelly green grass dotted liberally with olive green ferns. From a place where the tide tables are printed in the phone book, which is never more than an inch thick.

.

I come from a place where people wear socks under Crocs, fleece jackets, and Carharts with rainboots year-round. Where they regularly power-wash the sides of their house to remove the mold, are wonderfully unaware of current fashion trends, sell flowers at roadside stands, and decorate their front yards with buoys and driftwood. Where it rains beautifully every Christmas.

.

I come from ridiculously huge pickup trucks, wild blackberry bushes, pinecones, and sand. From blue herons, seagulls, bald eagles, deer, elk, and slugs. From a high school that had a leak in the ceiling of the main hall (which we solved by placing a huge garbage can underneath it to catch the water that dripped through from the rain outside). From wind off the bay and drive-through espresso stands with dozens of flavors to put in your hot chocolate. From clean, cold air. From contentment and peace.

.

Oregon, I love you. Every time our plane touches down in Portland and I feel like I'm coming home.

.

The funny thing is, every time is touches back down in Lubbock a week later, I feel the same way.

.

It feels so good to love things, doesn't it?

.

What do you love?