Oct
7
I am back home from a wonderful trip to the coast with my mom and aunt. We’ve met up at the beach many times over the years, some ocean-facing spot that’s something of an in-between drive for all of us. I’m so grateful for all those good visits, some of which have been a real respite for me during tough times.
The current times cannot be pried from the tough bucket ($6 a gallon for gas there, by the way, despite whatever baloney is spewing from Dear Leader’s disgusting little pooched facepucker) (side note to hold collective mourning space for our decency as a society with American audiences clapping at the idea of Iran taking out major California cities, what the whole hell my god) in the larger sense but my own personal bubble has been increasingly rose-tinted for weeks now. What a summer it was for me, it feels gross to say that when things are so hard for so many people but I have to celebrate wins when they come: SUMMER 2026 WAS A MF BANGER.
I say that because I could feel it in me during our visit, this newfound confidence and vibrancy. Do you feel like a more interesting person now, my aunt asked me, and I had to say that by the laws that govern my being I am forever incapable of praising myself, but … *tiny voice* yes?
I don’t mean that I have suddenly become the sort of person who can command a room with my terrific mesmerizing stories, ha ha ha neeeeeeeeeewwwp, but I just feel more whole now. I feel like a person who is not incomplete when I am by myself. I feel like someone who is no longer in the position of mainly providing updates about other people. I feel buoyed by the simple good times I have had lately and I feel like those are the things that are important in my life, rather than milestones and accomplishments.
Somehow the paddleboarding has been a great part of this, the way I have pushed myself through waters both literal and not during my outings. The new strength in me that’s grown from the inside out. The capability I feel and the self-reliance. The ability to greatly enjoy spending time with other people, and then fully luxuriate in my own company.
Everything is temporary and I can’t predict how I will feel tomorrow, much less years from now, but for the time being I am feeling deeply thankful for the sense of contentment. I have a rich full life with friendships, family, rewarding things to do, and the most entertaining and loving pets on the planet. My boys are thriving and their futures seem bright. I’m healthy and strong and curious and easily delighted by dogs in cars and cool-looking leaves and when the beat drops in Dracula by Tame Impala.
I like myself now, is the thing. (Wow.)
Sep
27
Back in the family rafting/Rogue river days, we would always stop at the Galice Resort for vanilla soft serve cones and drinks on their giant deck overlooking the water. It was an iconic part of the visit, a deeply enjoyable and familiar place. And then in 2021, it burned damn near to the ground, some sort of electrical fire that left nothing but a boat shed and a gravel parking lot.
Even when you know bone-deep that the world does not stay the same, sometimes a thing can catch you completely off guard. Like what do you mean this place we went to over and over and assumed we’d always be able to go to just, like, burned the fuck down?
They built part of it back, eventually. It’s not the same, but you can still go get a drink, listen to some live music sometimes. And of course our little family is not the same. I doubt there will be a time when the four of us are there again.
Is it harder to lose something important when you don’t see it coming, or when the ending is planned? I would say the former is worse, it can be shocking and there’s no way to prepare. On the other hand, you can be ready for a thing and then it’s nothing like you imagined.
Well. Yesterday I said my goodbyes to Little Joe. I can’t say I took him for granted, exactly, but even with his age in mind I suppose I just pictured riding him forever somehow. I could and could not believe that I was cleaning his stall for the very last time, taking him out for one final graze.
Everything is temporary, the moments we want to wish away and those that we want to cling to with pry-them-from-me-when-I’m-dead fingers. I feel like that is the greatest lesson of aging, how important it is to experience the things we enjoy as best we can before they too are gone.
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