Today I finally took my much-needed drive to the coast. I don’t know if I’m any closer to answers though; it felt in some ways like ad hoc relief because I didn’t have a transcendent moment.
In other ways, it felt like a human moment that might have bought me just a little bit of grounding. I had my husband with me, and a random local guy I met via Twitter who seems OK.
I don’t know what the trip did for me really; I’m too tired to think after 12 hours behind the wheel. It certainly was pretty, though. We all need beauty in our lives and I drank in so much of it today; Western Oregon is possibly one of the most majestic places in the world, or at least in the US.
Also, I must admit that the sea air put some color in all our cheeks. We were all a bit pale this morning; now, not so much. We’re not sunburnt, we just look healthier.
I guess the biggest emotion I got out of this trip so far was a sense of profound longing, though. It really hit in Astoria, seeing the ships moving down the mighty Columbia toward the Pacific.
There is a part of me that really misses the ocean. And that part of me, I’m fairly certain, once sailed into Astoria about 150 years ago.
Maybe if the country goes to hell, that’s what I’ll do. I have fewer regrets from my seafaring life than I have from the life I wasted at the Western Front.
In the meantime, what can I do, but go to the seaside as often as I can.