The Uphill Slide

There is always something.



I’ve wanted to run away from home many times, long before Jacob’s arrest. My wanderlust is being fed by the fear that if I don’t start traveling soon, my time will run out. I was envious of my brother and his first wife who visited every continent. They were in China on 9/11, cut off from most of the news from home that we sat glued to our TV’s watching. My husband and I picked them up from the airport, and we were so glad to see them home. My brother remarried on 9/11 last year and took his new wife to Cuba and South America. I envy that he has lived the life I always wanted.

My husband and I talked casually in the past about moving. Our kids were grown, and our parents were dead. There was nothing holding us to this place we called home. He mentioned Texas once, but where in the largest state of the contiguous United States? I suggested we should travel around the state to pick a spot for homesteading. Last year in May he went to Texas on a hunting trip over the date of Jacob’s possible early release from jail. I don’t think he was scoping it out for a move though. Once he mentioned Idaho. Nothing against Idaho as I remember a beautiful blue lake that we drove by and an enjoyable day in Boise. But I do not want to be landlocked; I want to be close to an ocean.

The West Coast is calling for another visit starting at the uppermost tip of Washington on the Makah Reservation. We walked on the beach near the campground and hiked to Cape Flattery. We drove to Forks and walked along Second Beach on the lookout for vampires and werewolves. I have never lived near the ocean, and the sirens are calling.

I wanted to tour Portland to see if I liked that city. I knew how much Roy disliked cities; so when we arrived in rush hour traffic with our camper trailer, I told him to pass through and keep driving west to the ocean. We reached Tillamook in the rain; it rained and was overcast those few days in August we camped there. We visited the Tillamook Cheese plant, home of awesome cheese curds. I wish I could have bags of those little curds shipped east to Pennsylvania. When I worked at the Loews Ventana Canyon Resort in Tuscon on a temp job in the 80’s, I worked with a woman who grew up in Oregon. She bemoaned the depressive 300 days of rain in Oregon in comparison to Arizona’s 300 days of sunshine. I like walking in the rain with my flowered rain boots, but does it really rain 300 days a year? But Oregon also boasted nurseries whose catalogs I pored over for new perennials for my garden a few years ago. Plants and gardening are selling points for the area. I need to explore the possibilities. I liked the San Francisco area when we visited in 2004 with its curvaceous Lombard Street, although the visit to Haight-Ashbury held very little to remind me of Janis Joplin and the hippies of the 60’s. San Francisco might be too expensive anyway for real consideration. Perhaps Crescent City, California where we watched the sun set over the lighthouse as we walked on the pier. And Utah!!! Could I ever tire of those indescribable striking red rocks? But where is the ocean?

These are all places I have visited and/or passed through. What about all those places I missed? That travel trailer is looking better everyday. Then again, I have always wanted to live in Spain and walk Las Ramblas and become fluent in Spanish.

The most important thing is not to be landlocked too long. I want to live near the ocean.



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