Seagulls, Sand Dollars, and Returning Home

On anticipation

“Something feels different,” whispered owl.

“Perhaps,” replied bear, “you are excited?”

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📷: Seed Poddy
…

Soon.

Water so cold it makes you laugh.
Barnacled rocks underfoot.
Days that yawn like tides.
Heron calls.

Soon.

Treasure hunting for agates in the early morning.
Ancient forests squeezing to the bay’s edge.
Warm sand naps on the beach.
Seagull calls.

Soon.

Dogs underfoot, toe licks and calf kisses.
A nephew reading, always reading.
A niece laughing, always laughing.
Eagle calls.

Soon.

Pitching my tent in front of 100-year-old cabins.
Childhood memories of summer vacation.
Sleeping under the stars.
Family hugs.
Crow calls.

Soon.

I head to Nooschkum this week. And I couldn’t be more excited.

Generations of my family have gathered here.

As a girl, my mom walked this same shore. And her dad before her. And his dad before him.

Aunts and uncles, cousins once-, twice-, and three-times removed.

For thousands of years, this has been the aboriginal territory of the suq̀ʷabš “People of Clear Salt Water” (Suquamish People). Sacred land long before our feet ever touched it.

I will hug my mom, and my dad, and my sisters, and my brothers.

I will hug my niece and nephew, and my sister-in-law.

I will hug those of my family who could not make it.

I will hug my own heart and the trees and air and the sand between my toes.

I will hug the pain, and the joy, the sweetness and the suffering – everybody has a story, and rarely are all stories always happy or easy.

And I will hold these all closely, heart to head, head to heart.

A magic woven together,
of birds feathering across water -
calling memories from the depths,
waking us from reverie:

“You are here,” they say.
“You are here.”

“Be here.
Be here.”

Filled with gratitude.

What line can you trace back through your history that lands you on the shores of your childhood? Perhaps follow it today, and give that little one a hug, too.