Coming Home...

I have been away from home for years now, yet every time I come back it seems the same somehow. After the long hours of driving the winding waters of the Gorge are a welcome sight, familiar and breathtaking all at the same time. Driving through the Gorge I watch the water, still as glass, the sun reflecting off an invisible current. Windsurfers dot the river with their colorful sails and the anticipation starts to build. We are getting closer. We pass Multnomah Falls and I can almost feel the spray on my face as it makes its descent down the steep rock wall. Then just as suddenly it is gone and downtown comes into view, the bridges, the buildings, a crew team slices through the water to my left. I am always surprised at how beautiful Portland is to me, the view, the memories, the nostalgia of my childhood all come together here. We pass through the Vista Ridge tunnel and the words sprayed on the walls are different but yet the same. As we emerge, the haunts of my youth are hidden behind a blanket of lush green trees but I see them in my mind. We continue along the freeway, Cornell Rd, Bethany Blvd, then finally 185th. Turning onto Andria Avenue I see the trees, the fence, the mailbox, the wood numbers. I am home.