The Long Goodbye
As my husband's only blog post in recent memory reminded me, today marks the beginning of the one-month countdown to our move outta here and back home. "WHERE is outta here?", you ask. Well, H-E-Double Hockey Sticks, is how I might choose to remember it, but geographically speaking, it's called North Carolina. Just over a year ago, I wrote this about our little home:
7 April 7, 2005
The Dogwood
There’s a dogwood blooming outside my dining room, beyond the back yard fence. It looks like a dogwood sprig, really, because the branches go all in one direction and the blooms are clustered in a cascade that is reminiscent of a wedding arrangement. It’s overcast today, and very little else has greened up yet this spring, so the dogwood flowers look almost blazing greenish-white against a grayish-brown backdrop of foliage-free trunks and branches.
This tree catches my eye every time I step up to the sink or walk by the dining room windows. It reminds me that before my move to North Carolina, I had no idea what a dogwood looked like. Now that I’m familiar, I can think back to some trees around Padelford, the building that houses my department on the University of Washington campus, that were dogwoods. At the time they struck me as plain and barren looking. Here, however, I’ve come to see their blooms as the promise of spring, and their unique shapes as an interesting variation on the generalized shape of a deciduous tree. These beautiful trees blooms’ have a range of colors from dark pink to green-white, which are recognizable from quite a distance because of their distinct shape and growth pattern. For this reason, these trees seem very prevalent, appearing in virtually every front or back yard, as well as in the “wild”.
We’ve been contemplating making this our last spring in the Raleigh area and moving back to the Northwest, preferentially Portland. For me that makes a grand total of two springs. Though this hasn’t been the most intellectually inspiring place to live, there are some things I will take away from our time here with gratitude. The obvious ones – my husband and son – will always take first place. But the more subtle things, like lessons about tolerance, the existence of racism and sexism in the south, and neighborliness unlike anything I’ve previously experienced will also stick with me long after I leave. But the thing I think I’ve learned here was best stated by someone who has lived in Washington State her whole 50-some-odd year life. When your social environment changes, there are bound to be unconscious traditions and expectations familiar to those around you to the point that they frown unknowingly when questioned about said traditions. But for the outsider, these things are glaringly obvious because of their lack familiarity. They are what make you “different” and everyone else seem “xenophobic”.
The dogwood in my back yard is a quiet reminder to me that there are things I’ve seen and learned here that I couldn’t have anywhere else. I’m not sure, but I would be willing to risk the statement that most natives probably don’t notice this little tree as much as I, because their eyes have been falling on it since the beginnings of their lives. But for me, its as foreign as a cicada in Seattle. Not matter where I go, whenever I see a dogwood I will think of my time here and wonder if I couldn’t’ have done a little more to acclimate or assimilate, and I’ll wonder if I didn’t miss out on something because it took me so long to realize that what I see as “normal” would make any southern native just as uncomfortable visiting where I’m from as I’ve been here. I will never regret my desire to leave, but I will miss the beauty of the spring.
* * *
Since writing that, we've been trying our hardest to get home. We've been searching for jobs that would take us to Portland, but in the end we found it would be better just to get back to the West Coast, which means we'll be living in Seattle with my mother when we get back. Despite all our best efforts and intentions, NC has just never become home.
I could go on at length about Big J's job, our lack of friends, the distance we have to travel in order to do the simplest things like grocery shop or get a cuppa, but all that would be code for the fact that this place just doesn't suit us. Much like the dogwood blooms standing out against greening foliage, we stick out like sore thumbs. That isn't to say that we haven't met people like us, with similar mindsets and lifestyle choices. There have been the odd few. However, there is something deeper, a sense of belonging and familiarity that goes beyond just fitting in. Home, I think you might call it.
When we get back, and the ocean is finally back in its proper spot and the mountains greet us from beneath the clouds, we'll start looking anew for opportunities in Portland. Ultimately, we'd like to get a small apartment clost to Big J's employment, and I might actually think about working a little. I've learned by now that life is what happens while you're busy making plans. Okay, that's really friggin' cliche, but it is also cliche because it is true. I hope that I'll be able to finish my undergrad English degree before we get around to having another baby. Then, from there, we're really hoping to open a comic book and coffee shop. For now, though, I'm happy with the fact that we're getting out of here and back there.
7 April 7, 2005
The Dogwood
There’s a dogwood blooming outside my dining room, beyond the back yard fence. It looks like a dogwood sprig, really, because the branches go all in one direction and the blooms are clustered in a cascade that is reminiscent of a wedding arrangement. It’s overcast today, and very little else has greened up yet this spring, so the dogwood flowers look almost blazing greenish-white against a grayish-brown backdrop of foliage-free trunks and branches.
This tree catches my eye every time I step up to the sink or walk by the dining room windows. It reminds me that before my move to North Carolina, I had no idea what a dogwood looked like. Now that I’m familiar, I can think back to some trees around Padelford, the building that houses my department on the University of Washington campus, that were dogwoods. At the time they struck me as plain and barren looking. Here, however, I’ve come to see their blooms as the promise of spring, and their unique shapes as an interesting variation on the generalized shape of a deciduous tree. These beautiful trees blooms’ have a range of colors from dark pink to green-white, which are recognizable from quite a distance because of their distinct shape and growth pattern. For this reason, these trees seem very prevalent, appearing in virtually every front or back yard, as well as in the “wild”.
We’ve been contemplating making this our last spring in the Raleigh area and moving back to the Northwest, preferentially Portland. For me that makes a grand total of two springs. Though this hasn’t been the most intellectually inspiring place to live, there are some things I will take away from our time here with gratitude. The obvious ones – my husband and son – will always take first place. But the more subtle things, like lessons about tolerance, the existence of racism and sexism in the south, and neighborliness unlike anything I’ve previously experienced will also stick with me long after I leave. But the thing I think I’ve learned here was best stated by someone who has lived in Washington State her whole 50-some-odd year life. When your social environment changes, there are bound to be unconscious traditions and expectations familiar to those around you to the point that they frown unknowingly when questioned about said traditions. But for the outsider, these things are glaringly obvious because of their lack familiarity. They are what make you “different” and everyone else seem “xenophobic”.
The dogwood in my back yard is a quiet reminder to me that there are things I’ve seen and learned here that I couldn’t have anywhere else. I’m not sure, but I would be willing to risk the statement that most natives probably don’t notice this little tree as much as I, because their eyes have been falling on it since the beginnings of their lives. But for me, its as foreign as a cicada in Seattle. Not matter where I go, whenever I see a dogwood I will think of my time here and wonder if I couldn’t’ have done a little more to acclimate or assimilate, and I’ll wonder if I didn’t miss out on something because it took me so long to realize that what I see as “normal” would make any southern native just as uncomfortable visiting where I’m from as I’ve been here. I will never regret my desire to leave, but I will miss the beauty of the spring.
* * *
Since writing that, we've been trying our hardest to get home. We've been searching for jobs that would take us to Portland, but in the end we found it would be better just to get back to the West Coast, which means we'll be living in Seattle with my mother when we get back. Despite all our best efforts and intentions, NC has just never become home.
I could go on at length about Big J's job, our lack of friends, the distance we have to travel in order to do the simplest things like grocery shop or get a cuppa, but all that would be code for the fact that this place just doesn't suit us. Much like the dogwood blooms standing out against greening foliage, we stick out like sore thumbs. That isn't to say that we haven't met people like us, with similar mindsets and lifestyle choices. There have been the odd few. However, there is something deeper, a sense of belonging and familiarity that goes beyond just fitting in. Home, I think you might call it.
When we get back, and the ocean is finally back in its proper spot and the mountains greet us from beneath the clouds, we'll start looking anew for opportunities in Portland. Ultimately, we'd like to get a small apartment clost to Big J's employment, and I might actually think about working a little. I've learned by now that life is what happens while you're busy making plans. Okay, that's really friggin' cliche, but it is also cliche because it is true. I hope that I'll be able to finish my undergrad English degree before we get around to having another baby. Then, from there, we're really hoping to open a comic book and coffee shop. For now, though, I'm happy with the fact that we're getting out of here and back there.
