It was a quiet place (on the outside at least) in a picturesque ravine just outside of Tillamook on the Oregon Coast. In the now 24 years I've lived out here, I've probably been past this stretch of road at least a dozen times, but never thought I'd know anyone who lived there.
Turned out a friend of mine from college did, and she invited me an another friend of ours out to join in their annual yuletide revelry. I hadn't anticipated it being quite as chaotic as it turned out to be on Christmas Eve, but such is the nature of Silly Season.
I took this picture on Christmas Day, though, when things were a little more mellow and I had a chance to clear my head of some of the usual stuff which plagues me during this time of year. There is something to getting away to somewhere new and uncharted and seeing what you may find. What I found was a very tight-knit and loving family who loves their daughter and welcomed her friends like we were their own.
Given the relationships I have with my closest friends, it's not something I'm unaccustomed to, but even so, I found myself having to get used to it from the perspective of a total stranger. The friend who invited me and I weren't exactly close in college, so to even get the invitation was a little odd to process at first only because it came with the obligatory, "Why me?" attached to it, when there were probably another half-dozen people she could've invited out.
Once I got there, though, it didn't seem to matter. I was a guest and a welcome one, which was nice. And going out on Christmas Day and soaking up the tranquility in that ravine, of hearing nothing but the rolling of the creek behind the house and the slight breeze coming over the mountains was both soothing and recharging.
When I left a few hours later to come back home, my friend's parents asked me if I would be back next year as well. I told them I didn't know since I wasn't sure how my plans would look in a year's time, but if I could manage it, I'd like to.
I left there feeling like I'd had a chance to take a short, but very deep and cleansing breath of fresh air, which I needed. And as I got back on the coastal highway and back into civilization again, my cell phone pinged back to life, telling me I had a message on my voice mail.
Since I didn't have cell service where I was, it made sense that someone tried to get a hold of me. I figured it was one of my brothers or my friends making sure I hadn't entirely fallen off the face of the world in little over a day. I put my bluetooth in my ear, punched the button, and waited for the message.
What I got, I wasn't prepared for, because it was a voice I hadn't heard in a while.
When I said two weeks ago that I'd made a sincere wish for what I wanted for Christmas, I honestly didn't expect to get it. After all, to wish for something brings the real possibility that it will not happen.
I listened to the message once. Then did so again to make sure I'd heard it right. It was the phone call I'd wanted, from the person I'd wanted to talk to. Because I was on the road going back through the mountains and they were busy with their holiday, I had to wait until I got home about 90 minutes later to answer back and say I was available.
We ended up talking for about a half-hour and it was a nice conversation. The best part is that the door is open to have another one again sometime, should either of us wish to. It felt kind of surreal when I put my phone down, and I'd by lying if I anticipated the sudden breakdown and release of spontaneous emotions that followed.
I think I must have cried for close to 20 minutes, and it wasn't crocodile tears either. What came out of me was about two years of guilt, regret, confusion, anger, tension and a lot of other negative things I'd swallowed and clung to, because I thought I needed to. I didn't just cry. I bawled, and for once, it actually it felt pretty good to let all that out and let it go.
I got my wish and I got two solid days of peace in my head to go along with it. All in all, that makes for a damn good Christmas.
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