The Long Way to Astoria

A Little Note

The Long Way to Astoria I arrived in Astoria last night after driving down through the country from Seattle, and I am so glad I took the long way. The short way would have been faster. It always is. But the long way handed me a covered bridge and an Irish pub and mile after mile of road that felt like driving through a green cathedral. The pines lean in overhead until they make tunnels of you, and the sides of the road spill over with blackberry brambles, and right in the middle of all that tangle you find morning glory blooming like it has nowhere better to be. I thought about my sister the whole way. My mom and my dad too. Oregon was our beautiful time, and the road knew it before I did. Some places do not just hold your memories. They hand them back to you one at a time, whether you asked or not. This morning I was up at five. I wanted to see the Goonies house before anyone else was awake, and I got my wish. It sits there looking exactly like the movie, patient and a little proud, with the morning fog rolling up off the bay behind it. I stood in the quiet and let it be mine for a few minutes. Now I am tucked into a coffee shop called Coffee Girl, watching the fog and waiting for the sun to burn some of it away. It is in no hurry. Neither am I. Nora would have noticed the same things I did this morning. That is the strange gift of writing a character who travels the roads you grew up on. I keep finding her in the corners of my own memory. 🌼 Follow the Marigold. 🌼 Melissa