We headed home to Spokane on July 5th. For years I’ve had this memory of a stretch of curving road past a blue-green gem of a lake on my right with forest climbing the hill on my left; I thought it was from a trip across Highway 20. The image in my mind has always been calming and refreshing. I realize, as we hug the shoreline around Lake Crescent, that this is the stretch of road from my memory, only this trip I’m leaving instead of arriving.
I was heartsick to go, as I always am until the winter months when I see the news about the horrific coastal storms. Even so, this place holds fast and tight to a corner of my heart. Even Long-Suffering Spouse mentioned something about running a hostel between Forks and Kalaloch as our retirement occupation. I may live there yet, where the sea sings my heart and the velvet, mossy forest echoes my dreams.