Apr
20
I’m back from 3 days in Port Angeles at my mom and aunt’s place, a particularly special visit because they are between renters and therefore the lovely downstairs apartment was available to me. They have a very unusual house, a split level with bedrooms and a bathroom on the main floor, a gorgeously spacious living room area and kitchen upstairs, and a full setup downstairs complete with additional small kitchen. Not only that, but a subterranean level with its own rooms, one side accessible via spiral staircase that goes down from an upstairs closet like a secret entrance to a bunker.
Their house is perched on a hill overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca, with broad views of the harbor and Vancouver Island in the not-so-distance. Behind them, the Olympic mountains rear up in their white-topped glory, their small town nestled between mountains and sea. It is a staggeringly beautiful place, especially in good weather which I was lucky to have during my stay.
One of my favorite things to do there is to park at the entrance to the Ediz Hook, a narrow sand spit that extends from the peninsula out into the water, and walk to the end and back. It’s about a 3 mile trip with plenty to observe along the way, including a feral cat colony that lives among the boulders on the northwest side. I was thrilled to see otters for the first time, three that came up on shore and obligingly squirmed around doing Incredibly Cute Otter Things while I took a million videos.
I also like walking the neighborhoods near their house, where I routinely encounter deer who are so used to humans they don’t do much but raise their heads and gaze calmly as you go by. Sometimes I walk their dogs, one at a time. They have three: Logan the gentleman Great Pyrenees, Dottie the semi-bonkers Maltese, Jinx the sweet American Eskimo mix. All mild-to-medium chaotic in their own way and deeply lovable.
Being in their home always gives me a liminal space kind of feeling of being caught between worlds. I am the child Linda Lee, I am the adult, I am cared for and I can provide care. I feel too far away from my own home, yet deeply AT home. I’m reminded of my grandparents’ house in Michigan, down to some of the same furniture and ticking clocks, while looking out at some of the most classic PacNW sights there are.
Amidst it all, an undercurrent of worry that never quite leaves. Probably those of you with aging parents know this feeling: that things are precarious. My mom has had some tough health issues, the house is not set up well for a lack of mobility. As I said to my aunt, you two are one rolled ankle away from total catastrophe, and she agrees, but what can you do.
And I suppose all of us are all one event away from our lives being upended. I myself would not be in a great position if I were to sustain a mobility-limiting injury. There is never any end to the anxiety of imagining how things could be worse.
But for now, all three of us soldier on in our own ways. All of us flowing in and out of caretaker mode, tending to our own hearts as well as each other’s. Fragile as petals, strong as roots.
Apr
9
I’ve had some really good days lately, starting last week helping with a family grief support group (sounds distressing, I know, but I was with a group of hopped-up kids and the vibe was far less Big Bleak Bummer and more Full-Scale Pint-Sized Chaos Goblin), buoyed by some live music and good company, then rounded out nicely with some unseasonably warm and sunny weather.
It’s been the sort of weather that makes a person nervous to enjoy it, really. I mean, I know we get the full mixed springtime bag in Oregon, but 80’s in April is pretty wild. On the one hand, I’ve been happily soaking up the vitamin D(opamine), on the other, I’m like … am I the frog who is cluessly splashing around praising the water’s comfort as it makes its way towards boiling point?
Well, probably. But what am I going to do about that, right? I bought those stupid resuable straws, I did my part!! (Just kidding. Although I DO have some v strong butthurts over the lie foisted upon consumers that it was up to us to save the planet by guiltily scrimping on paper toweling etc while the corporations doing the actual damage continued with full toxic impunity.)
It’s sort of like how I view AI tech. Do I increasingly believe it’s going to ruin our culture and ability to believe anything we see or read and possibly kill us all, yes, do I also enjoy using its tools for all sorts of things, also yes. It’s here, it’s far beyond my ability as one person to effect its advance in any way. May as well lie out in the deadly laser sunshine/ask ChatGPT how to fix my disconnected CarPlay.
Maybe it’s due to the surge in warm temps and/or being outside so much, but I’ve also been in full-scale histamine overkill the last two days. I would actually suspect something more serious except for how this presents, classic allergy hell of nonstop sneezing/itching nose/itching and watery eyes. THE WORST. Okay, the worst is having a president who openly declares his intent to commit genocide (wtf wtf wtf the whole world is shoulder-deep in a cycle of abuse by this dipshit psycho), but shitty allergies are no fun either. I don’t remember ever having so much trouble with allergies so perhaps that is something else that aging surprises you with. “Welcome to 52! Now your legs are saggy and breathing air makes you want to claw your face off!”
I am tired of blowing my nose for sure but it is worth it to have spent so much time enjoying my backyard. The yard was one place that still didn’t really feel like mine — aside from a bit of planting last fall, it had no personality to speak of. Now there are more flowers, container pots here and there, and some inexpensive places to sit and lounge. I’ve discovered that it’s a very quiet place, with no neighbors seeming to be in their own yards that touch up against mine. It’s different from my previous yard, smaller with less privacy, fewer trees, more far-off road noise. It’s got a lot of unpretty power lines strung overhead. The lawn is in a deathfight between grass and dandelions and the weeds are surging ahead.
But it is MINE, all mine. I was out there all weekend for the most part, with Billy hanging out nearby on his harness. Sunshine overhead, music playing from my little speaker. A yard full of potential, with some well-established plants and plenty of room for more. All up to me to decide how I want it to grow over time.
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