Life Here Is No Day At The Beach
(Still) adjusting to life in the PNW, far from my LA dream, and making the most of the differences.
“ATTENTION
WIldlife are frequently seen in this area.
Black bear, mountain lion, moose, eld, and other large mammals are common to this area.”
It still shocks me to see these signs. Even having grown up not an hour away, I still feel the tinge of fear at the idea of a moose or an angry bear lurking in the bushes behind us.
It was never the kind of thrill I sought in life. I wanted the rush of cabs, the noise of traffic and construction, the bumps of strangers’ shoulders against mine, bustling past each other like carpenter ants. The clack of high heels, the waft of coffee shops, the smoke of street kebab vendors…
We parked and made our way down the established path to the small corner of the lake; a little pool somewhat sheltered from the rest of the open water. Surrounded by trees on steep hillsides, a few other small families around us. Jake braved the cold and dipped in, being only May and wanting to gain his lake-legs early. We live only five blocks from Lake Coeur D’Alene now, so we expect to swim often this summer…
But my heart is still at the ocean.
My feet still crave the sand. I appreciate these soft little pebbles under me on the way to the lake shore, but I am still grieving my Los Angeles life, even after…what has it been, nine months? I’ve lost count. Last summer was such a blur, rushing from LA to my parents’ lake cabin to prepare the land for our wedding. The wedding itself. Our tour de Europa honeymoon. Then a dark, cold winter. Dreary and humbling.
Without that California sun, it was the cold of winter that made me realize what changes I needed to make. That I needed to sit down and write again. Away from the social scene where my cushy corporate job was selling their products, I could too clearly see the messages we were peddling. Messages I couldn’t be part of anymore, and so I left that behind, too.
I’m trying. I am. And there are things I deeply appreciate.
The way Jake leads me through the wilderness on a hike or a long drive,
unafraid and comfortably familiar with his surroundings, beguiling and overwhelming as they are.
He does the same in the wilds of my insecurities.
Guiding me gently along the path, reminding me to travel forward and not be tempted to run back to where I came from, a place of scarcity and the belief I was truly unlovable in some ways. He brings me out of those dark woods every time.
So for now, as out of place as they may look, I’ll be overdressing for a day at the ‘beach’ in Beaver Bay. I’ll still be wearing my 2” platform wedge sandals downtown, doing my best not to become so complacent to the surroundings that I lose my sense of style. If I’m honest, I mean: become so depressed or so despondent to my own preferences that I decide it’s better just to fit in than be myself. Dress like myself. Remember the kind of environment I really thrive in.
And I’ll keep seeking the glimmers of joy I can find here. The fact that a night ‘on the town’ never costs us much. That our little apartment is so (crazy, insanely, can’t even tell my friends back in LA how much more) affordable. That I took a huge leap of faith to come here, and I can make it my own to the best of my ability, and let the mountains teach me a thing or two.
Beaver Bay photo by Lee Stone, source and license here.