You Can't Go Back

I arrived in Hanford two days ago.

Hanford, the place where I was born and spent so many wild, wonderful, magical childhood days.

There’s a familiar smell here in this Big Valley.  I remember, as a child, waking up to this smell every morning. It’s a pungent mixture of hayfields, tractor oil, cows, and tule fog. And it speaks to my soul. It makes me want to throw on my jeans and run out into the middle of the cornfield; to feel the hot dust puff up between my toes; to lie on my back, chew on sourgrass, and study the white fluffy clouds. When I close my eyes and listen, I hear the voices of my past. Those voices move me, almost to tears. Where did that frightened but stubborn little girl go? I want to put my arms around her and encourage her to keep putting one foot in front of another. I want to tell her, “Don’t let your spirit be crushed!  Follow your heart!  It’s ok!  You’ll be fine.”

People who are born in this little town are expected to stay and die here. That was not a gene I inherited. I sometimes laugh and say I should have married that farmer, but deep inside I know that isn’t true. I can remember sitting for hours, pouring over old National Geographic magazines and dreaming of all of those far away places I would visit when I grew up.  I was a wanderer from the very beginning. The open road, adventure, and freedom called to me and the ache to explore the world ran deep. There are steep prices you pay for that type of freedom. It is only now, in my mature years, that I realize the price of that freedom. As I ponder over whether or not freedom was worth the price, I come to the same conclusion.  Each time I follow that thread, I have to admit to myself there  is not much I would change.

Something here has changed, however, either in the town or in me. The change feels strong and yet poignant.  While my heart swells at the wide open spaces, the sunrise, the whistle of the trains, the scent, there’s something inside me that whispers to move on... move out... don’t stop here. Don’t let yourself be trapped. Love and adventure is the spice of life and it’s waiting just around the corner.

It’s the Autumn of my life, not the winter. That red in my leaves is the ache I feel for the heat of the sun... the touch of a lover... a secret smile across a room... a brief flirting moment that makes me feel all green and juicy again.

My friend Joe says, “You’re either green and growing or ripe and rotting.”  I still have some growing to do!

So I will leave tomorrow.

I feel a deep need to spend some time with myself, with my thoughts, with my feelings about recent events.  I need some space, some quiet time with no sound to distract me except the wind.  I need to play my guitar, sing sad songs, reminisce and relive some of the more precious moments of my wonderful life. I need to gaze into the fire and soak up the sunrise.

There are things you can return to and things you cannot.

I am learning to discern the difference.