Sacred Ground

We will depart Marshall for sacred ground in nine days.  Next Friday I will wake up, shower, dress my kids, grab our luggage and drive down the winding dirt road to the MLL Airport.  We will take a charter that we're sharing with Josh's coworkers (who have four kids themselves) to Bethel, where we will eat lunch, and then catch the afternoon flight to Anchorage.

We will spend the night in Anchorage, allowing me some time at the mall, and our family a meal or two in a restaurant (!!!), and Sunday we will arrive at Ted Stevens International Airport ready to make the four hour flight home, to the Northwest.

Imagining our homecoming, our family hugging us and exclaiming how some of us have grown (and others of us have shrunk) has gotten me through some tough moments the last few weeks.  Beyond that moment, which I think will be off the charts, we have been planning, talking, dreaming.

"I want to go to the beach. I want to drive. Just drive, and go somewhere, anywhere I want."

"I can't wait to go to the river. And swim.  Oh, oh! And I can't wait to walk on the waterfront."

Even the boys are in on it. "I want to play in Nanny's backyard with Ferris!"

"I want to go to Grandma's park and ride bikes with Gustav!"

There are some places that I always knew, even when I never had any intention of leaving Washington, were special.  There was "the river".  Also known as the Washougal, where our family had been swimming for all the summers I could remember.  Big rocks walked on by little Saltwaters.  Crawdads caught by boys' summer-tanned hands.  Racing rapids enjoyed in huge inner tubes.

Or "the beach". Also known as Rockaway, where my grandparents retired and we spent spring breaks, long weekends and sunny summer days flying kites, eating ice cream cones and picking out treasures at Flamingo Jim's.

But now that I have left my home, the one place I had ever lived in my life, more items have been added to that list of sacred places I will forever cherish.

For instance, Main street.  The church where we married; the ice cream shop that makes its own ice cream so divine I would pay about $100 right now to have some in the freezer; the tea house where my coworkers and I spent our first lunch break back at work, catching up and thanking the heavens that if we had to be at work, at least we had each other; the Walgreens where we would run to get candy before heading to a movie, filling our purses with Milk Duds and Junior Mints, spending $20 less than we would have paid at the theater; and the Starbucks, with all its delicious baked goods, that would often call my name on the way to work.

And also the Columbia River Waterfront where I could often be found after work, pushing the double stroller filled with my twice-as-nice, watching the boats float by, and the trains whistle past.  Oh, how I miss it. I miss water. I miss rain.  I miss moisture.  Everything here has been frozen, cold, solid, and dry.  I might just dance in the rain when it finally decides to fall.  If it decides to fall- it snowed again last night, about half an inch... I am beginning to think I won't see a drop of rain until my feet hit the concrete at PDX.

More sacred ground? My mother-in-law's front yard, where we can often be found in the summer months, sitting in the grass (grass!) visiting and watching the grandkids play, ride bikes and fight with one another.   

My mom's backyard, with the slip'n'slide set up, ready for a big, wet adventure, and little boys all covered in sunscreen, giggling as they crash into each other.   

My sister-in-law Julie's patio where all of the adults will sit while the boys swim in the pool, jump on the trampoline and do tricks on her play structure.

The Oregon Zoo, is another landmark I feel I took for granted.  With its expansive trails & walkways, leading you to and from the animal exhibits.  The amazing train ride that so enthralls our boys.  The elephant ears they sell at vendors established throughout the park.

A park.  Any park.  With green grass, a play structure and a picnic table to eat snack at.  I am so excited to go park-hopping this summer. To load up the Pilot with balls and bikes and bubbles and boys, and spend entire afternoons in the sun, surrounded by green, watching the twins run and play in the bark chips, kick a soccer ball in the grass, and careen wildly down big, tall slides.

Being stuck in the house for four months will do a lot to a girl.  Thankfully, it's made me grateful, not crazy (at least not yet!) and I can't wait to visit all these locations that have danced through my mind since we left in January.

Nine more days.  So much work before then, but every ounce of effort will be worth it when my boys are suited up and dipping their toes in the freezing fresh-off-the-mountain water at the Washougal, or when they are able, finally, to play with their long-lost cousins after a simple drive across town.

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, 

places to play in and pray in, 

where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.  

-John Muir