My story begins with the wish to give the dearest woman I know the best gift ever for her 50th Birthday. My mother has lived many lives in this one alone. She had traveled the world by 16, and had skilled her self as an unforgettable horse rider by 20. Now she lives a simple life of a schoolteacher in the small village of Olympia up in the Pacific Northwest. Her life is one that dreamers dream of, with the wildness and youth the treasures of travel, and now the quite peaceful joys that a family and garden can give.
In the midst of this life of hers; she had me, and with it, the stopping of that life were her hard working and priceless adventures would transform over the years caring for her son, into the sweet simple life now.
I of course feel like that wild life could have been nice for my mother to have kept going a little longer. Maybe not have had to taken on the role of mother just yet, not saying she didn’t do a bang up job. I do like living this life I have; well most of the time.
So I thought of a gift, a gift of the nightlife and city lights. A night on the town for her birthday, and maybe a memory or two. Now learned my first lesson on this first leg of my travels, I learned that if you try too hard, you might miss the moment of joy you were looking for. I took her to Portland were we first went to the Museum and walk around for an hour or so. Then we went to the show, were I had messed up and we missed the night I had tickets for. So this night I needed to scalp a couple. Easy as a C-note .As we walked up and bought a couple of tickets not only for the main show, but also for the special donors of the benefits the show was on for. So not only did I get to take her up for special snacks and a private show with the band before the night began, we also got to do something in the meantime since the show wouldn’t in fact start for another hour.
By the end of the night after some light dancing and exciting moments from the crowd, she was so excited about the new band I turned her onto that she bought one of there CD’s from the back on the way out.
After the long day and loud late night show, the stomach is usually crying out for some French fries or eggs and hash browns. So the diner is the only option at that point, and when I say diner I am not talking about that trendy place you go to hear tunes from the jukebox and eat fancy fries with organic mayonnaise, and I am not talking about the outdated 50’s diners or the Jewish deli diners. I am talking about the diner were you can smoke cigarettes, were the guy wearing a red flannel really works with lumber, the high school girls are drunk and not caring make-up is smeared and fist their burgers in they’re mouths. I hadn’t been to a diner like that in awhile, and I tell you the mother and son booth was stranger then fiction to the characters at that place that night. We were laughing like monkeys, sharing stories about past lives, eating those French fries like they were beluga caviar sticks. We got home at one, and I felt like this was just as important for me, as it was empowering for her. The next day we had her party in a beautiful park, were 30 people showed up, and I fell in a hole and sprained my ankle carrying a box of chicken for the BBQ.
The rest of my days there were filled with reminiscing with old friends, dealing with the fact that I wish I were closer to my family than I am. Spending time with my younger brother so I wouldn’t feel so bad when I leave.
I wasn’t able to jump on any of the horses when I was up there. They know my tricks when I give them a carrot and try and jump on. Now they run from me after I give them the carrot. These horses need to get trained for letting people ride them I thought.
There are chickens and horses a cat named Tiller and two dogs Bunion and Arrow.
Food is made in the Kitchen not in a restaurant.
No one watches TV; we play games and walk through the forest.
Life up there makes me happy, yet the risk and the fear isn’t there, so I am not either.
