Friday, January 20, 2012

The Sound

We are what we are where we are planted. But we are what we are by our roots. Some roots are longer than others. Some are deeper. Some get severed and some, indeed, are far-reaching.

I sat looking out over the Sound....Puget Sound. The waves lapped the shore. Water surrounded the house on two sides. This landscape had never crossed the mind of the girl when she lived back the lane. No, I was girl of the soil.

When Dad and Mom took to Florida when I was sixteen, they opened a world to me that I had not known.  The roar or the waves coming in and the sound of lapping water kissing the sand. I stood there with tears in my eyes. It was after nightfall. I could not see this beast that raged. I had tears in my eyes from fear as well as the overwhelming sense of belonging to something greater than myself.


My parents didn't expect our exposure to the world to be that of only the farm. The offered their children opportunities to see other parts of the US even though money was always tight. We traveled to Michigan, Saute St. Marie, Washington, DC with all the states in between. We went to New York as well as traveled through Kentucky and Indiana. Florida was a highlight I never expected.

On TV we watched shows that taught us about the world. Dad and Aunt Alma educated us to nature. We learned by the people who came through our door and into our kitchen. They brought their stories to us from as far away as Germany, The Netherlands and Piney Woods, Mississippi. We were taught to embrace what came our way.

When I moved to Oregon, I fell in love with our Pacific Ocean. The capes, the monolithic rocks rising from the blue water. I fell in love with the roar of the ocean and the richness of nature that looked upon it. I came to a state that was a total of all I had learned to appreciate as a child.

I stood by this house on looking out over Puget Sound with tears in my eyes and memories in my heart.

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