Postcards From California
Journal Entry: Sunday September 1st, 2019
I went on a walk to hold in the tears. Everywhere I went it was like a dam behind my eyes. My throat swelled and I used all my strength to keep my composure. I needed to break. I was buckling down. I just couldn’t keep it together. In the distance a sign read “Refuge”. It over hang across an office building. It appeared to be a church of some sort. I sat down in the parking lot and broke down. As the sun faded across my back I slowly sobbed. Why was I here? I left my home and all I knew and loved. I left the beautiful mountains and lush green trees of Oregon to now feel so alone and empty in this hot California sun.
The pavement scraped my jeans as I curled deeper into my weeping. Here I was this man all dressed in black aching in this hollow sanctuary parking lot. I wanted God to reach down and pluck me from this life… However as I breathed in and the saline poured from my face I began to feel lighter. I needed this breaking. I needed to release all this anxiety, this sorrow upon sorrow and let myself embrace the overwhelming uncertainty of the now. Death is the only true end. And at this I began to dream again. My trip here was not all pain. My dear friend accompanied me, was both a confidant and a pleasant distraction. I needed strength and differed attention to pull me through. I needed a human manifestation of grace. My friends & my family have been the emotional wheel chair I’ve needed. None of them can walk my own steps, only I can do that. Yet with each day I climb this mountain. Closer and closer to healing. Perhaps to someday feel whole enough to collect the million tiny pieces of my heart into one place.
I began to write again. I began to feel the waves of hope rush new life into me. This culture shock has been my immigration from my home of over two decades. Oregon you were my lovely home. I love you Oregon! Thank you for all the memories; both sweet and sour, for the love you gave and the love you took. Thank you Oregon. Thank you for your emerald breeze that taught me. Thank you for the loves I still hold there, for the family of choice and the times I’ve cried and laughed in your borders. Here’s my first of many postcards to you. I love you Oregon, you’re a gem and precious place to me. My heart hasn’t left you but my spirit needs to be here and elsewhere.
Child of Oregon,