A Broken Heart

The time is coming. The End is Nigh. Repent of your vacationing ways.  For tomorrow, you must return to Chicago. 

Last Wednesday, I squeezed into a wet suit, a pair of jeans, pajama pants, some socks, boots, a t shirt, a flannel, a rain jacket, a hat i knit, a helmet, and a life jacket and spent 4 hours rafting down the Clackamas River with these 4 chaps and chapettes. 

Lizzie Schwarsrock was also there, but she took the picture. See her here. 

She's the one without the beard. In case you were confused there. 

While on the river - I caught this little Rainbow Trout - The first fish I've ever caught on a river. It was the first cast on a brand new lure. That lure is stitched into my guitar case now, where, forever it will stay. I felt bad for the little guy. He had to die to fill up my belly. So, closed my eyes, and thanked him for his life. I killed him, I gutted him, I cooked him over a fire burned down to coals, and I ate him. 

"Fish"  as I came to call him - was one of the best I've ever had. 

Here he is. :) 

Will said, Oregon, giving me that fish on my first cast -  it was just another example of how She is calling for me. Maybe she is. 

Several people told me, when I came here, I would never return. Oregon would take me up in her warm, rainy, comforting arms, I would fall in love, abandon all that I know, and stay with her forever. And while I can't stay forever, it has not stopped her from seducing me since I first set a foot on her northern soil. 

A few October's back - I fell in love for the first time. The first, absolutely real time. I fell for my best friend. She fell for me. We loved hard.  Hard and rough, with this fierce passion that I'd never dreamed myself capable of. I made breakfast for her every morning, and she took off my shoes at night. She stitched our hearts together, and I fed us with homemade bread. We never went hungry, and we were never lonely. We opened our hearts,  let our secrets fly, and our fears fly further. Stories ruled the long drives and the late nights. She could talk all day and all night, and I could listen, and never get bored. We dreamed of a life off the grid. A life where we could just love, and and create art, and love. We broke up. And we broke our hearts. I still love her, and, my heart is still broken. 

I feel, in a very similar manner, about Oregon. 

And my heart, in a very similar manner, is breaking. 

My plan was to come here and do Midsummer, not to fall in love. But, it's always best when you're not looking for it I guess. 

This post turned out a little different than I planned. I didn't plan on crying, that's for sure. It was the shoes, definitely the shoes, that got me started. I miss the girl that took my shoes off at night. And, I'm going to miss the girl that tucks me in with a cold wet breeze every night. 

That Oregon. She's a lover.