Remembering

Crater Lake, at the Delaware Water Gap

Coming home was a big lesson in remembering. The minute we got off the plane I felt the hot, sticky, impenetrable humidity of the Mid-Atlantic, even within the air conditioned terminal. I had forgotten the way the moisture saturates all the smells-- good and bad. As we waited for our shuttle to the car rental place, I glanced down at the grimy sidewalk to see an assortment of gum, cigarette butts, and filth. It's almost as if there aren't enough people in Victoria to make that kind of grossness that 1.5 million people can. As we were carted around the airport in a shuttle bus that blasted bad rap music, I remembered how the site of the Philadelphia skyline could make me want to cry-- and still does. It's a smathering of colonial history, ugly 1970's architecture, ghosts of the PSFS past, and the glass beast that is Comcast. I love that city.

The Shitty!

My parent's house is a site of a childhood simultaneously forgotten and remembered, with details that were overlooked for 25 years, and now have significance and meaning. The ornate and wobbly iron doorknob to my bedroom that still doesn't quite close unless you jiggle it just right. The cracks in each of the ceilings that either haven't grown in the 35 years my parents owned the house or have grown significantly since the last time I was there 10 months ago. The creaks and groans of the floorboards on the second floor landing, the staircases, the dining room. The patch of sandy dirt on the sidewalk just as you turn right from the backyard porch and the different shades of red in the brick along the side of the house, and how those shades changes when you applied water to them to draw as a child. I also remembered all of the hugs of my family-- the excitement and joy from Eric, the silliness and adoration from Brian, the all-encompassing one from Kate, the pureness and wholeness from my Mom, the sweetness and tenderness from my Dad. Slipping back into routine was easy, as I listened to the box fan in my window to my left and gazed at the dollar store glow-in-the-dark universe above my head.

Cape May Arcade

The tactile aspects of places that I visited are memories that are hard to recreate and remember if you're not around them all the time. I loved watching my feet sink into the sand as the warm Atlantic washed over them. The feeling of a hot campfire blazing the hairs off my legs during an August night as I listened to friends' voices again for the first time in a long time. The sensation of jumping into the brackish, cold water of a bay only to swim quickly for relief as I shivered and felt goosebumps on my arms for the first and only time during the hot weeks I was there. The pure and overwhelming sensation of holding my dear friends' child for the first time as I felt what could only be described as unconditional love and happiness for the child, my friend, and her husband.

Sand Dune Tracks

I loved being back home, but I also love being back in Victoria. Every time I said the word "home," I felt split between two worlds. I don't think it's fair to only label one place as home, for the guilt in mentioning that Victoria was my home or the awkwardness of labeling a place where I don't live as home shouldn't be as guilty or awkward as it was. I feel like I can make any place a home, even if it's only for a night, if I'm with Jon and if I try enough, and for now that works for me.

Kicking Ass and Taking Names

Gulls & Home

Our going away party: One year ago today!

I sat on the balcony at usually the time where the sun blazes right into my eyes, but today it's different. The sky was prematurely grey with clouds looming over the mountains in the distance where the sun typically retreats behind every night. There was a patch of a brilliant yellowish pink that peaked out a bit in between the mountains and the clouds, and I knew that somewhere in Washington someone was getting a view of a beautiful sunset.

A sunset from the balcony, on a much more impressive day

Without the fantastic display of colors to distract me, I watched the seagulls, whom I'm convince have houses on every roof in Victoria. Some glide lazily along their way before they flap briefly before touching down on the Tudor-styled building across the way, and others flap rhythmically, as if unable to catch a break in the wind. I now love being surrounded by seagulls; they remind me that we really are living in a shore town. Usually I only heard their calls about twice a year when I went down the shore in Jersey, but now I hear them every day.

Sunrise at the Jersey shore, 2010

The beach here is so different. There's no mile-long stretches of umbrellas, dozens of happily screaming children, or people battling the waves at the end of summer for hours. There's no boardwalk, no "Wildwood '04" hoodies, no loud rap music played for the singular pleasure of teenagers. No, here there's little waves with patches of rocky shores mixed with kelp, drift wood, and rocky formations. A beach comber might find about a dozen or so wanderers like themselves, or perhaps an avid reader plopped on a make-shift driftwood seat. When I used to see straight lines, now I have diagonals.

Dallas Road beach in Victoria

There's only ten days until Jon and I leave our rocky shores for smooth, sandy ones. Ten days until we leave our temporary home temporarily to remember what we little details have forgotten. The unfamiliar has become so common place here so quickly, only within a year, but I now long to see something that is known deep within my bones, and is burrowed in my heart. I love living here, but it's time to visit home.

Bay-side sunset adventure.

YVR to PHL

Cousins! And Tucker the dog

Yesterday I came home from a wonderfully exhausting trip back to the east coast. I initially decided to buy the plane tickets so I could see one of my dearest friends get married, but it also happened to be American Thanksgiving that same weekend! I managed to see a lot of my family and some of my closest friends while I was home, and feel like it was probably one of the most satisfying and productive trips I've had home. 

After reflecting on this trip soon after I got home, I realized that I have a hard time recognizing my need to be sad. I like to distract, deny, "be strong," and make excuses to not be sad. When my sister and I hugged goodbye, we both got teary-eyed, and while she admitted it, I hurried off and turned on emotionless business mode for the next 12 hours. It wasn't until I became upset with Jon for not changing the (admittedly very smelly) cat litter that I realized that something was off. I felt like I wanted to cry without knowing why, but realized (after I thought of Kate, Rachel, and I laughing about stupid youtube videos and started crying) that I needed to be upset and I needed to cry about leaving home again. Just that small recognition, awareness, and leaky eyes made me feel a hell of a lot better, and I feel much more settled.

Delayed layover in Toronto. They stamped by boarding pass instead of my passport!

Beginning of Thanksgiving with our first (of many!) guest, Aunt Mary!

Getting our nails did before Tara's wedding!

Getting all done up!

<3 <3 

This trip also resulted in finding out that Jon and I have quite a few visitors coming around our way in the next few months! Jon's sister and father will be joining us for Christmas, my mom and dad will be coming in March, my Uncle will be in Portland in May, and my Aunt may be following him in the summer! But most recently, my good friend Dana is hoping to come over soon after the new year because of Alaskan Airlines' current promotion: $200 round trip tickets from Philly to Seattle (scoop 'em up while you can, it ends Dec 9th)!

More awkward photo opps to be had soon!!

Exhausted & Excited

These last few weeks have been spent seeing friends, visiting favorite spots, packing, and sorting out our lives. We've gone out to dinner so many times I can barely count them, and I'm so happy I got to spend some quality time with some of my most favorite people. I couldn't have asked for a better last few weeks on the east coast.

Boating with Jon down the Jersey Shore

Despite all of this happiness, it's been bittersweet. Our cat, Mr. Clemens, has noticed the air of temporariness and has been crying almost every night, and Jon and I have both become exasperated with the endless packing and preparing with such a short time span. It feels weird to know that we're leaving in three short days while being in an area that I've known and lived almost my whole life. I've barely begun to process that I won't see my twin sister and her husband for a year and a half, except via Skype. They're moving to England for a year only a month after Jon and I leave, so even if we do get to go home for the winter holidays, they're not going to be there.

With so many exciting, nerve-wracking things to be handled, I feel simultaneously exhausted and excited. But right now more exhausted than anything. We're having our going away picnic/reception tomorrow (will it rain?) and then will be packing the car up on Sunday and leaving Monday. A part of me wants that time to be now so we can start the biggest adventure of our lives, but another part wants this time in limbo to never end.

Out to lunch with Karen

Dana's birthday vegan dim sum in Philly

The ladies at dim sum

Alex reading her vows to Matt near Boston

Some of my favorite Boston ladies

My sister Kate eating raspberries like Amelie

I guess this could be seen as a type of milestone in maturity. I was up in Boston for about three weeks before I made my first impromptu 8 hour bus trip back home, but I won't have that luxury now. We'll be on our own, supporting and relying on one another through the thick and thin, and I'm looking forward to that new stage of intimacy with Jon. I know whatever the future will bring will be saturated in great stories, happiness, and heartbreak-- all for a new life.

Ode to: New Jersey

Sunset at Stone Harbor

I grew up in a Philly suburb in New Jersey, along the Delaware River, and while I'm a girl from New Jersey, I'm not a Jersey Girl. When I was about 21 I was insecure and depressed, and I went through a phase where I thought I wanted to be a Jersey Girl (fake nails, flat ironed blonde hair, tanning salons, pink spaghetti strap tank tops...), but soon snapped out of it and reverted back to my bohemian-esque self.

But I do love New Jersey. I enjoy some of the trashiness (in an ironic sort of way), I love going down the shore, and the Pine Barrens fascinate me. It was great having two major cities close to me, and I have a lot of close friends who live in New Jersey. While Jersey gets a bad reputation for the Sea Side lurkers (in high school we always called it "Sleaze Side"), there are a lot of great places for natural beauty and genuine people.

But this is all about Southern/Central Jersey. I have no idea what they do up in Northern Jerz.

Burlington Island

Jon on Burlington Island

Stone Harbor

Wildwood

Sunrise at the Jersey Shore

Me at Wildwood Crest

Backpacking with Friends in Wharton State Forest

Me at Grounds for Sculpture