my dad took 8-ish year old me and 4-ish year old sister there for my cousin's wedding. my sister dressed appropriately and I insisted that I wear a black velvet dress, black tights, black shoes. my parents were already separated but my mom weighed in that funeral attire might be frowned upon. there was no stopping me, I wore black. it was hot.
I remember snippets. sleeping on a carpeted floor, or at least near one? so much driving. there was a mountain? yes, there was a mountain. and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach when we rounded the corner into a parking lot and in front of me was a church. I wondered if that meant that I was religious. if my cousin was getting married in a church, and my cousin and I were family, I must be religious. my eight-ish year old brain didn't know where to file this.
my sister and her more-magical-than-unicorns little girl are living in Oregon in a not so convenient part of the state if you're someone who prefers short flights to long drives. I fiercely resist driving. I only offer to drive when I am the only driver and if I don't do it there will be a volcano that will destroy everything, and babies will turn into zombies, and flowers won't exist so I'd better drive, or else. I've yet to visit them.
little mommy and I are planning a trip to Oregon in her little red car next weekend. next month J and I are flying to Portland-ish, OR to attend an amazing celebration of love. Oregon twice.
