Oregon
My summer in Oregon was a period of return and nostalgia. Having spent the first five years of my life in this state before moving to New England with my parents, I was back, with fleeting moments of a childhood on the West Coast. My parents sent me toddler photos of me to flimsily patch the gaps in my memory. I retraced these steps and made more with my newly earned freedoms. Everything about this state was so novel, yet somehow also deeply ingrained in my roots and my parents’ stories coming to the States. I was like a toddler again, stumbling around the Pacific Northwest in fascination. The maples and birches I was used to on the East Coast were now pines. The mountains loomed taller. The coast stretched longer.
I had just picked up solo hiking and spent almost every weekend of June and July surrounding myself with new scenery. In this time alone, I filled my brain with thoughts, music, and podcasts. I pondered my singular presence within the land, hummed to guitar strumming, and listened to scientists discuss the discovery of an entirely new blue hue. With each step, my past and present leaked into each other. And every night, when I had immersed myself in a new setting earlier that day, I would ask my parents if they had ever visited the place. More often than not, they remembered the beauty now so fresh in my mind, revealing that I had already been there with them: You never knew how to smell the roses. You would breathe out onto the petals, my parents chuckled. A point of growth since then, I countered.
Oregon can be harsh. Its land can be unforgiving and challenging, but in this time of exploration, I was rediscovering a youth that I had somehow left on the other side of the country. It was a call to reflect and reconnect with land and people alike.