Tread Cautiously

Now that I've lulled you all to sleep...it seems like a fine time to slip back into the room. Like a thief in the night, as they say. (The allusionists here might find the reference a bit blasphemous, no?)

Perhaps I'll share the story of a summer haunting. It is Portland. She's ever lurking, draped in gray and green. It doesn't make sense, really. Here I am, running about the town I love deeper than most things in life. The warmth, that blessed warmth -- the very thing, or absence thereof, that kept PDX from taking more of my heart -- is ever with me these days. It's family, and friends, and all the right stretches of road. And yet here comes some sliver of an adventure past, a soft whisper, always at a moment least expected. There are rational explanations, of course. One summer in an office has begat another, so that when the heels on my shoes clack along the sidewalk, I'm brought back to 600 NE Grand. That makes sense, just like all the similarities do -- exchanging one Thai place, one coffee mug, one skyscraper for another. But all the rationality in the world can't take the mystery out of it, nor can it wake me from the daydreams brought on by these sudden flashes of memory. She's with me, ever with me, and I most often feel powerless to stop her. Not that she need be stopped entirely. There's a whole lot of pleasantness in the haunting. But there is also something alarming in it, something that bids caution. And that's not to mention, either, the constant ache. So, I am left with a mysterious season, and it appears she's just not done with me yet. That last thought feels a little too unempowered, and I don't think it's quite accurate. (Sometimes storytelling gets the best of us.) Relationship roles aside, Portland just hasn't seemed to finish yet, even though she technically did nearly a year ago. Thus, a summer haunting...

Glad to be back.