Escape to Portland

I wrote this in my journal forever ago and just never posted it:

It seems like just yesterday I sat on a 737, gripping the armrests just a little more than normal, with gleeful expectation. As the plane descends I take in the beautiful landscape. Instead of feeling annoyed with the hazy mist that envelops the city, it wraps a warm blanket of nostalgia and comfort around me. I was home.

The biting winter wind quickly reminds me that I've lost my thick Oregon skin, living quite the spoiled life in Southern California for the last five years. I am warmly greeted first by my brother, who has graciously driven far out of his way to pick me up at the airport. And thus begins the next four days where I live the life of a charmed visitor; spending time with my family and friends, making the most of every moment and soaking each second in.

Now I stare sadly out the window, watching a city that I love, and desperately miss, grow smaller. I suppose this is where I would say that I cried, but I didn't. There were no glistening tears in my eyes, no sniffles, no alligator tears tumbling down my cheeks; just acquiescence that I was headed back to my daily routine. I had found it so easy to step out of my life and allow all my cares, worries, and problems to remain tucked safely away in Orange County. Unfortunately, as I contemplate my return, I am well aware that my left behind lovelies are waiting for me, eagerly awaiting the moment that they can glom back onto me. In fact, they are somehow managing this feat long distance as I begin to think of them.

I never really thought of myself as a runner... well physically yes, I love running... but I mean from my problems. If you know me well, you know that while I hate confrontation, I am willing to do it when need be in order to keep the peace (always the peacemaker). But I found myself on this trip just longing to stay... feeling like if I were to bring my life to Portland that I could somehow escape my problems and never confront them again. This is of course, ludicrous, as well as cowardly...but it is what I so desperately wanted to do.

I take a deep breath and try and gather my thoughts...not much is coming to me to be honest and a fear takes hold of my soul. Why can't I just be better? This is the question that I repeat over and over again in my head... and as the feeling of failure nestles down in its usual resting place, a sad sense of defeat overtakes me and this is where I begin to cry.