On Going Home

Hometown stopover in Portland, OR

En route to aloha I spent 10 days in my childhood home in Portland. I hadn’t seen my parents in 2 years and there was no way I was going to Hawaii indefinitely without seeing them. I suggested taking an Uber home from the airport to avoid bringing the plague. They weren’t having it. There were masked deep smiles upon greeting shown only in sparkly eyes and crow’s feet. No hugs which is straight up awful. There are golden nuggets hidden in this whole pandemic business, but the social distancing piece is not one of them. We’re hard wired to hug. I hate this part.

I had already changed my clothes at the airport. I washed three flights off immediately in the shower. Clorox the shoes, launder the travel outfit, don’t kill the parents. We stood around in the kitchen contemplating all of it. Are we wearing masks inside? What’s the protocol here? It’s all so weird and awful. After 30 minutes of an attempt at 6 feet, my mom gave in and hugged me. I held my breath but welcomed it. They’re my parents. I can’t not. It’s too hard.

We would normally have museum jaunts with lunch, shopping dates, dinner out. Normal went out the window in mid-March. Instead we stayed home and did home things. We played in their dreamy garden, had 7:00 nightly driveway sessions with the neighbors, watched movies, ate our feelings. Eating one’s feelings in the presence of my mother is no joke. She does not mess around in the kitchen. The perpetual quest for the bikini bod goes on hold.

Socially Distanced Visits with the Sibs

My middle brother Ken and family came over for a backyard brownie party. The deck chairs were 6 feet apart. We all wore masks. I got to meet my 2 year old step-nephew and watched him play with toys preserved from toddler years. I’d normally be all over that kid, on hands and knees pretending, planting kisses in his neck. Staying 6 feet away from a sweet little curly haired nugget of goodness hurt my heart, but at least I got to meet him. We’re all doing our best here to find the beauty in the ridiculousness of it all. Brownies, brothers, babies…I’ll take it.

My older brother Mitch and family drove down from Seattle to see me. It was pouring – backyard plan thwarted. We got creative with an open garage masquerade, a makeshift plastic folding table flaunting freshly cut peonies and warm oatmeal raisin. Peonies make the no hugs factor better – they make everything better really. My nephew Thomas is forever 4 in my mind. I barely ever get to see him. I feel old observing this now pubescent teen with deepening voice and long pandemic hair trailing beneath his baseball cap. Wait. What? You’re supposed to be little Thomas. This whole teen thing makes my brain hurt.

Nothing has Changed, Aside from Everything

Three days into the visit, George Floyd was murdered. An already upside down world turned nuclear overnight. This is one helluva time to be leaving everything I know and love. I was already crawling out of my skin with anxiety about pandemic travel and profound personal change. Now we’re headed for revolution with an upside-down Bible toting Devil in the White House. It’s a lot.

I’m in the warm comfortable womb of my childhood home with two parents that love me while the world falls apart. Nothing has changed, aside from everything. My dolls are lined up on my bed – Jenny and Mary, Tootie the Clown, Eloise and elephant. The Greg Louganis shrine is still taped inside my closet. The gazebo where I said “I do” covers the hole in the fence where I short cut slithered through to Molly’s house. There’s no trauma in these memories – just an idyllic childhood in a safe neighborhood with a nurturing family. The scenes of anger and unrest on the news are stark reminders of my privilege. My personal narrative and internal turmoil shrinks to a whisper as the country marches with a roar.

The 7:00 Sessions

On my last night home I took a spin around the neighborhood to calm the ants in my pants and expel nervous energy. Five weeks of anxiety build up….I just need to get there. I made sure to time my walk as not to miss the 7:00 neighborly driveway session. Our next door friends had donned their finest aloha shirts with fake white leis and huge grins. I was floored! Propped up in my mom’s roses was an adorable farewell sign on poster board scrawled with colored markers and silly flowers. They gave me a re-usable straw – a gift mindful of my 49.7 lb suitcases bursting at the seams. It was a charming, playful socially distanced send-off – one of many Portland golden nuggets.

Tomorrow is a very big day.