Slowed to a departure

Yesterday's departure, past evergreens, blackberry, flowering morning glory, and the mountains that unfold into hills that turn to reveal plains of the sound’s blues, grays and greens finally arrived. Our Amtrak Coast Starlight train stopped in Portland. A rust colored bridge spanned my view of the sky, more bikers pass then cars. Portland’s creativity and discipline refreshes me. The grime of Tacoma’s labors and sorrows are worked into the soles of my feet, no matter how much I scrub them. I could stand to be refreshed.

I have never thought of myself as much of a writer, but I want to document what I see, experience and learn through my writing. It’s disappointing to think that at the age of 27 God has pushed me to learn certain lessons, take comfort in specific places and remember the love of the people in my life, yet I too often fail to remember anything beyond this moment. I get trapped in the superficial emotions and sensations of life (though they are gifts in their own ways), when I desire to dwell in a peace that comes with perspective and from a deeper place within.