I returned to California on Saturday evening. It was nearly 2 am in Williamstown, West Virginia when I arrived and put my feet down on the West Coast again. I mention Williamstown because I'd been visiting my Dad and Grandma and other family there for about two months.
In fact, I have been away from California for just over 5 months - just 6 days over, to be exact. I took a trip. "Really," you ask - "Yes," I say, "a LONG trip." A trip that I cannot classify under the non-descript canopy of the word "good." But neither can I relegate to the dark shadows of the word "bad." It was...good, so good to see my family members. To spend some time talking and just being with the people I grew up with. I love them and that will never change.
Things change and man, as hard as it is to leave, it is that much more difficult to go back.
Some expectations were completely satisfied, others were not even addressed. I found that while you may change or you may gain new perspective or opinions, it will not always be the case with those around you. They will change and grow, but not in the same vein as you.
I have begun to understand that pain - in whatever form it comes - even senseless suffering - makes us strong in SOME way. It may make us strong haters. It could make you a strong forgiver and a better person. Or you might be made strong in your stance or beliefs. Pain brings strength, regardless of what that area of strength is. And the somewhat tricky part is this : that I can decide how it shapes me, to a degree - this is a very important realization. Key, you might say, to living life happy, or at peace.
Growing up happens very quickly, doesn't it? I was thinking about this the other day - almost before you know it has happened, adult-hood is upon you. And your decisions and ideas and dreams are supposed to have changed as much as your physical appearance does in those formative, transitional years. But what is interesting is that we react to our problems and our lives in general in the manner we learned to "deal with it" when we were about 5 or 6 years old. Isn't that an oxymoron? I think so...So, no matter how old I grow to be, when someone hurts me or rejects me, somewhere inside it is likely to sting in the same place that hurt when I was six or so and someone told me to "get the hell out of here..." ??? I have never forgotten the sting I felt at the hearing of those words...Though I have forgiven the child that said them to me...Just some thoughts. Returning to your growing-up place has that effect on you, I find. It seems not so long ago I was climbing up that slide at the park and running through the yard at dusk catching fireflies...or "lightening bugs" - that's the proper name for them!
And now here I am.
But it feels good to be back in California...I stood for several minutes just inhaling the aromas in the produce section at Safeway the other night. It was delightful indeed...all that freshness and ripened fruit. Yum...
In fact, I have been away from California for just over 5 months - just 6 days over, to be exact. I took a trip. "Really," you ask - "Yes," I say, "a LONG trip." A trip that I cannot classify under the non-descript canopy of the word "good." But neither can I relegate to the dark shadows of the word "bad." It was...good, so good to see my family members. To spend some time talking and just being with the people I grew up with. I love them and that will never change.
Things change and man, as hard as it is to leave, it is that much more difficult to go back.
Some expectations were completely satisfied, others were not even addressed. I found that while you may change or you may gain new perspective or opinions, it will not always be the case with those around you. They will change and grow, but not in the same vein as you.
I have begun to understand that pain - in whatever form it comes - even senseless suffering - makes us strong in SOME way. It may make us strong haters. It could make you a strong forgiver and a better person. Or you might be made strong in your stance or beliefs. Pain brings strength, regardless of what that area of strength is. And the somewhat tricky part is this : that I can decide how it shapes me, to a degree - this is a very important realization. Key, you might say, to living life happy, or at peace.
Growing up happens very quickly, doesn't it? I was thinking about this the other day - almost before you know it has happened, adult-hood is upon you. And your decisions and ideas and dreams are supposed to have changed as much as your physical appearance does in those formative, transitional years. But what is interesting is that we react to our problems and our lives in general in the manner we learned to "deal with it" when we were about 5 or 6 years old. Isn't that an oxymoron? I think so...So, no matter how old I grow to be, when someone hurts me or rejects me, somewhere inside it is likely to sting in the same place that hurt when I was six or so and someone told me to "get the hell out of here..." ??? I have never forgotten the sting I felt at the hearing of those words...Though I have forgiven the child that said them to me...Just some thoughts. Returning to your growing-up place has that effect on you, I find. It seems not so long ago I was climbing up that slide at the park and running through the yard at dusk catching fireflies...or "lightening bugs" - that's the proper name for them!
And now here I am.
But it feels good to be back in California...I stood for several minutes just inhaling the aromas in the produce section at Safeway the other night. It was delightful indeed...all that freshness and ripened fruit. Yum...
I first learned of killdeer from my dad, who was walking with me out on the property of the church we attended. The land was being developed, and apparently provided an ideal nesting place for these interesting birds. I was about 13, I guess, and was listening to the long "kill-dee" sound this strange bird was making and watching as it ran about. Dad said if you got too close to its nest, it would begin to act injured in order to draw you away. I was fascinated! So I inched closer to the bird and sure enough, it began to drag about on the ground, one wing appearing to be broken. It led me further and further, until all at once, it up and flew away, back to the nesting area where we had seen it originally.
But I had never seen a baby killdeer until the day before yesterday. I had been sort of wondering what to write about, as nothing too over-the-top had happened in the last few days. Little did I know! I was amused by the mother killdeer, but as I googled their species tonite, and came across this site