Cape Lookout

Mom, Ben, and I had a magical time yesterday when we drove south of Tillamook to Cape Lookout. We spent the afternoon hiking to the main lookout point, and back again, and along the way we stopped and admired all the beautiful trees, the lovely roots cracking up through the soil, glimpses of the ocean both in the distance and up close as it smashed against the shore, all the lovely flowers and other vegetation. My sense of smell was especially on fire yesterday, and the fresh air mixed with the smell of dirt and salt and water and vegetation, well, I went into sensory overload and was brought back to so many moments in my past. The interesting thing is some of the memories were directly related to these same smells, but in lots of other ways these just opened the door to things that seemed unrelated: the sand dunes near Saugatuck, Michigan; Grandpa's house and the piers and the receding shoreline and the neighbors' big house across Silver Lake; A.J. Beckert's basement, his whole house really, and all those exotic birds his mother and stepfather raised, and how he and I would eat ice cream while playing video games; the Wooddale house, its driveway and backyard and old fan in the kitchen (that same fan was in the Whiskey Creek Cafe, where the three of us had a delightful lunch....the owner just went into business about a week ago, and we chowed down on delicious burgers).

The weekend, overall, was just a joy. Tara and Brad arrived Friday night with pizza, and the five of us sat in the basement and talked about funny things and then watched Halloween, which Ben and Tara had never seen before. Saturday was a day of Twin Peaks with Christina and Ryan, and luxuriating in couch-bliss after a perfect stop at the Tin Shed for breakfast. I sure do love breakfast, and coffee, and all that other yummy stuff.

Lately I've been feeling like a shell that's cracked open and all these senses get let in and out. Things feel like they are weaving together a little more effortlessly. Or, I should say as I've said before, I'm trying not to try so hard. This is a very freeing feeling.

A pink and white origami rabbit arrived in my mail on Saturday, from my secret pal. The Velveteen Rabbit has me forever endeared to rabbits, and I checked the mail right as we were all snuggled into our living room nests, and the sun was shining bright through the curtains, and I felt a great peace wash over me. This peace continued, and took on operatic tones in the car on the way to Cape Lookout, when Ben put on Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, and I was in the backseat looking out at the layers of trees and shadows and sunshine, and that woman's voice echoed throughout the car like a tribal call. Peace is a lovely thing, a lovely feeling, a perfect reminder.