missing you

the thing is, i love the desert. i love it almost to a ridiculous degree; i've loved it since the moment i set eyes on it, when i was 17.

i have to go there, it's like an itch that must be scratched. i try to go every year; right now is about the perfect time to go. i'm leaving in a week. i can't wait.

but i've never lived there. i've wanted to, so many times. i've made plans to, but things get in the way; other plans arise and i end up still in the northlands. maybe it's because i am meant to be up here, ultimately.

still, i imagine living there all the time. i imagine waking every day to the dry air, the uninterrupted sun. the open landscape, the beauty of the bleakness, the worship of the rain, the sudden storms.

truth is, i'm always missing - a little bit - something. i think it's just how i'm wired. i love the northwest, can't truly imagine living anywhere not defined by the ocean and the trees...and yet...

i miss the desert, too.

funnily enough, i know just what i'd miss if i lived there, too. i think i would miss most days like the ones we've had lately - wild and raw spring days in the northwest. the moody sky - grey and darker grey, shot with blue patches. the wind whipping the tree branches, both bare and needled. the threat of rain, and the damp, fecund smell of rapidly growing vegetation after the rain breaks. the fresh air. the smell of the rivers. the white-pink of the freshly budded cherry trees that makes me wonder, every year, without fail - have i been asleep? how did i not notice the trees were about to bloom?

i'm leaving in a week. i'll be back - i'm not moving there. i still just daydream about that. but i will soak up every dry, warm moment in the fresh air, in the blinding sun. and i'll come back, and relish the scent of fresh-cut grass, the visual cacophony of the flowers budding, the sound of the fresh spring rain rattling on the roof at night. i'll always miss something. but that's ok.