How Could I Have Been So Foolish?
On longing.
My Loves,
My heart is both full and utterly broken at the beauty of Northern California. How could I have been so lucky to grow up here? How could I have been so foolish as to have ever left?
We don’t know ourselves until we know what we love.
I have not yet the words to write an essay for you about this place and me in it. So I have a poem to offer this week instead.
My body shivered, longing,
as the water, soft, tender even,
took me in,
my fingers spread before me
pulling myself through her
the granite beneath me
silent, silent, silent,
the trees above me-
pine of Jeffery, Ponderosa, sugar,
white fir, birch,
whispered their love stories
of a thousand years and more
all of it, all of it
filling my ears,
until I could hear nothing
but the heartbeat
of everything
This is so beautiful, Jocelyn. I was in San Jose for my daughter’s graduation and spent a few days in Walnut Creek last week. I even ran a few miles on the Iron Horse Trail. So, so different from SoCal and wondering if I could live there. Your poem makes it so inviting.
These words: "How could I have been so lucky to grow up here? How could I have been so foolish as to have ever left?" Exactly how I feel about growing up in Washington, surrounded by fir and salt water. It's such a bittersweet longing when we get to go home, isn't it? Thankful to have had it, wishing we could have had more, knowing we likely won't.