We’re moving off the west coast in a few days, and I’ve noticed I’m feel desperate to hang on to the beauty of early summer in the Pacific Northwest. As excited as I am about new things, I’m feeling pretty melancholy. The Northwest is home, and it feels like I’m losing something to move. On the other hand, I’ve done this before, and, with the possible exception of my home in Philadelphia, in every home I’ve had I’ve found something simple and beautiful to love.
At my parents’ house, I love to sit outside early in the morning, drinking tea and watching the birds at the feeder. In Sweden, I loved watching the looooong, slooooow sunrises and sunsets, and seeing how the seasons changed. In Santa Cruz, I loved being able to walk to the beach and I loved going up to the university and finding myself above the fog. In Painesville (Ohio), I could look out the living room window and see the Grand River, more birds, and our resident hedgehog, Fred. Or, I could look out my bedroom window and watch the snow pile up. I never get tired of snow! In Vancouver, I loved looking out my classroom window and seeing how different Grouse Mountain looked every day, and I loved driving through Stanley Park on my way into downtown.
But here’s the thing, in most of the places I’ve lived, I never paid much attention to the little beauties until it was about time to move…and then I started realizing how much I’d miss them. Then I’d move to the next place, and spend so much time missing the old place I’d fail to realize the things I love about the new place. New England is very different from the Northwest, but it’s beautiful in its own way. Maybe I’ll manage to actually enjoy it while I’m there.