Holiday Memories...

If I had had my computer I would have shared this memory closer to Thanksgiving.  Not because it is a Thanksgiving memory (because it is not...it is not even a holiday memory) but because I was reminded during Thanksgiving.

I spent Thanksgiving in Knoxville with my brother and his family. On the way there I saw a guy trying to get to Johnson City. I know all the warnings about picking up hitchhikers...but there I was, wondering if I could shift some of my stuff and make room for this guy.

See, my dad used to work in Portland, OR. And we lived in Twisp, WA (about 400 miles away) with my grandparents. And after work on Friday, he would hitchhike all night so that he could spend Saturday with us only to leave Sunday morning so he could be at work Monday morning. And I wonder how many people passed him by because they were afraid to pick up a crazy person... But to those of you who stopped to help him get home to his family...thank you.

Oh, and someone else stopped for Mr. Johnson City before I could and hopefully he was able to spend his Thanksgiving with his friends and family.

Thinking About Home...

On this day, last year, I was home.


After 8 years of living on the East Coast, I went home to Washington state for the summer. Many people have told me that I have lived out here long enough to start calling Maryland my home and, in some regards, that may be true.

I have a great job...great friends...
This is a great place to travel and take pictures...
...however...


The home of my soul is...and always will be the Pacific Northwest.


See, it might be different if I were just homesick. If I just missed my family and friends. A particular city. A certain coffee house. That one special thing that you can only get in that one special place.

But what I feel goes deeper than that. I don't just miss people, places or things...I miss a way of life. My entire being yearns for this way of living life. A way of life that involves elements that are non-descript and unspectacular on their own...elements that can be found just about everywhere...yet when combined produce a result, a manner...a rhythm that is distinctly exclusive to the Pacific Northwest. My heart beats to this rhythm. But this rhythm (and hence my heart) is very much out-of-sync in the place I now find myself. And there are days, like today, where it seems as though I am clinging to the rhythm of my heart as the frantic pace of life threatens to overwhelm me with it's powerful flood. As it hurls to-do lists, project deadlines, appointments...waves of busyness laced with futility and the occasional flash of panic...

What I need is a good pair of ruby slippers...