Mom and Dad love the woods, and the flowers and bees, and spiders and slugs and deer, and just everything that sings and grows and lives in the woods. So, where some homes might have a lawn, or poured concrete, or patio furniture, they have a meadow, wildflowers, bumblebees, blackberry brambles, and tall trees. Their home feels like a cozy nest in a pocket space between trees. Sometimes my Mom is a bit apologetic about the bits that haven't been mowed
, or how Dad doesn't want anyone knocking down that
spiderweb. I went outside to take it all in, and I saw beauty, which I tried to capture in this Instagram Reel.
We almost always arrive too soon to pick blackberries, but we were in time to see the happy bees and bumbles gathering nectar.
On some visits we have gone into town, or visited area nature trails, and even an aquarium, botanical gardens. This time I only had one agenda... to be together, to talk, or listen, to putter around, to share things that don't translate as well on the phone, or in texts. It's "normal" stuff that I really miss, like heating tortillas, folding some laundry, lingering over lunch, just so we are together. When we did go out to lunch, I enjoyed the luxury of observing, of relaxing. We didn't bother with rushing around, trying to be busy. Maria recited some of her poetry, some I hadn't heard, yet. My Mom wanted us to see her beads, to help ourselves to some of her inventory. My favorite part of this was seeing the beads she wasn't ready to part with. She can't work, not like she used to, but I love seeing that she still has the yearning, the spark. I also loved seeing the displays of affection between Mom and Dad. I thought about how glad I was they have each other, and all that meant during the long months of lockdown, isolation, uncertainty. This was what I came all this way to see, for myself, that everything is ok, that familiar things, and dear sentiments are still there, still tanglible, accessible.
I stopped at the State Beach, drove through to where the Coquille River meets the Pacific. We let the wind chase us around, up and down some dune paths, out to the lighthouse. We admired the shelters and lean-tos on the beach, the piles of driftwood, like lumberyard building supplies. I think if we were more warmly dressed, we would have built a cabin of our own. I'm sorry we didn't go back and do just that, but I am happy to think of making a new list, and new plans, for next time. I made another Reel, adding Aurora's beautiful song,
a favorite of Maria's, Runaway.
It began to rain a little. I didn't want to leave.
And when it was 9 o'clock, the night was just beginning to overtake the sky. Birds called one another.
I felt fortunate to capture just a bit of their songs, without wind and microphone clashes. When night took over, it was very dark, and still in the woods.
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