Oso

Twelve years ago, many of us crammed into a van, drove for awhile, fell asleep on each other, and woke up to green grass, tall trees, and blue sky.  I don't remember the pop-up tents, any meal we shared, or how long we stayed.  The things I do remember are the conversations, the laughter, the sparks from the fire, and the river.  Nestled behind a row of steady evergreens, the river seemed to appear out of nowhere.  The rocks smooth and the current just fast enough to loose a flip flop if not careful.  I remember the rocks and I remember the water.  I remember wanting to sleep on the riverbank the first night, to wake up and only see the earth.  The camp ground was small, accommodating enough for only our group.  The couple who owned the land lived there too, renting out the property for camping adventures.  A bit of hospitality even in the wilderness. 

We joked that we were in the middle of nowhere, though most of the group lived in far more remote locations.  Oso, to teenagers who never heard of the name, became "oh-so-faraway".  I forgot this little play on words, even forgot the town's name in the first 24 hours of hearing about the disaster.  Then, it all surged back to me--the tan shoulders, the smiling faces, the constant warmed sunshine, and the riverbank.  The memory far away perhaps, but the town is a day trip close.  We purge so much from our consciousness, even the good stuff. 


I ache for Oso, for those who are lost, for those who have lost.  I ache for my state, my home, for those who are in the trenches digging, for those who want to do more but can't.  Houses gone, farms gone, families gone, life gone. 

The humanity is beautiful.  Lines of volunteers.  Local grocery stores and thrift shops giving.  Large corporations donating and their employees promising to match. Churches opening their doors and not filling a room because neighbors are packing their houses tonight.  It is devastatingly beautiful.  We are once again, in tragedy, reminded to give more, love more, do more for our community and those around us.  

I cannot be in Oso tonight, I may only be able to contribute monetarily and be of no other use.  But, I can sit here and send my heart to them and wake up tomorrow willing to make my community better.  Everyday should be spent building up my neighbors and showing them that I want to help.  We should be in solidarity as a state, as a nation, and show Oso that we are here.  For each green and blue flag that waves in every town after victory, so should there be even more signs of support in tragedy.   

Someday, I know the grass will glimmer in the sun and the water will run crystal clear. I am certain that joy will return to the towns and communities will rebuild.  For this I know, someday I will again dip my feet in the current and this time offer a prayer.   I don't blame them for living under a mountain.  I would have slept on the riverbank every night.