November 2022
My mind seems to be parsing and sorting memories in ways I don’t recognize or fully understand lately. I get compartmentalizing and self-preservation and all of that. But often the organizational structure and flow of how, when, and why I recount some things or don’t, makes no sense at all and I have a tough time connecting the dots. Today’s example:
I had been to the Netarts Spit within Cape Lookout State Park once before this morning. I was doing book research at the time and had Kara along for the ride. It's a powerful memory. That’s where and when I took some wonderful photos of her. Photos I’ve looked at a lot since February. Her family had one of those particular portraits framed for her memorial back east, an image that also now resides in my mom’s living room. On a side note, it’s interesting that three of my all-time favorite photos of Kara were taken in Tillamook County, the place where I have resided since her passing.
I chose to go explore that particular spit today because as luck would have it, it’s only a few miles down the road from where I live now and I needed some nature and exercise. So off I went. The interesting thing was that even though I knew somewhere in that mangled web of synapses of mine that this was where I took that photo, it didn’t register with me in the slightest. And it would have been helpful. I occasionally revisit places specifically because they have a cherished Kara memory attached to them. I go knowing what I’m getting myself into. I’m ready for it - I’m there to process some grief. But that’s not how it went today.
Instead, I bushwacked my way through the interior of the land mass, foraged some edible plants, took in views of the bay side of the spit, and then traversed across it emerging on the ocean side. Right in the exact spot I had taken that particularly memorable photo of her years ago - and then that memory bushwhacked me. It wasn’t a complete meltdown, but it certainly rattled my cage. Mostly due to an onslaught of mixed emotions - embarrassment over not remembering how special that place was, grief, longing, confusion, but also, elation.
It could not have been more beautiful anywhere else in the world today than it was right there. The sky, sea, and sand were all utterly and completely perfect. And without another soul for as far as my eyes could see, it felt like that perfection was exclusively for and gifted, to me. So if my subconscious mind doesn’t mind, I think I’ll sort and file this one personally.