July 20th Post

Alternate title: Ode to the Columbia draft 235 (draft number approximate).




(I've been writing love notes to this river for as long as I can remember.)

My favorite place on the river is not a secret. It is a patch of sandy shore north of the dock at Snyder road and south of the dead end at Ferry. It is almost impossible to see- save from the actual river traffic, which is morning has only consisted of a single jet skier. Not surprising- it’s a Monday before 10 o’clock. But, in July, it is already hot, saved from uncomfortable by a breeze blowing from the north along the surface of the water.

Weekday mornings are my favorite time to inhabit this particular place. I’ve never run into anyone, in the evenings and weekends it would probably be full- with young people looking for literally a place away from older disapproving eyes- my own eyes would be viewed in exactly the same way, self centeredly assured that they are all individuals and I could never have come looking for what they now seek. I’m sure I believed the same.

I loose focus in Richland. Not that this summer I am focused on much of anything but place and history and family often send me off kilter and I feel like I am constantly looking for a way out and for someone to love me. I’ve long since found my way away- strangely close to the far away banks of this same river. That river, though a scant ¼ mile in proximity is beyond my home range. Inaccessible. And I silently thank those army corps planners of the 1940s for designing Richland with public spaces along the river. Because my spot may be private right now, but a grill, a fire pit and inscriptions of LOVE remind me that it is home to other people’s musings and escapist tendencies. I don’t make use of it often, but I’m glad it’s here to share when I can.