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I will miss everything golden (Goodbye, California)


I am preparing to move from Chico, California to Oregon...boxes are being packed and I am letting go of many things. I have lived in Oregon before, and in fact it is where I birthed my baby so many years ago. There is comfort in returning somewhere you've been before.

In a sense, I am returning to some kind of home. And yet, I am leaving another home. Home has always been what defines me, and moving to another state, over mountains, is not a small endeavor.

Of course, I cannot leave by beloved NorCal without writing about it! Here is an ode to what I will miss about my time here in California—the people, the place, the things I did here, and the person I became here:



What I will miss

I will miss the Avenues alleyways, especially when they are laden with fruit: cherry trees and peach trees, hidden fig trees, one hundred blooming pomegranate trees.

I will miss the gold country and my fiery friends there, I will miss the winding drive from county to county, I will miss the fragrant trees and rushing river.

I will miss the rice paddies on Mathews lane in every season. I will miss the flocks of birds that stay there after the rice has been harvested.

I will miss the cows in February on the side of highway 99, when everything is green.

I will miss the water rolling down the rocks at Upper Park at the end of winter, promising purification in all things.

I will miss the hot days and hot nights, the breathless heat, the slowest summers where no one moves and when clothes are a hassle.

I will miss the days by the pools with my friends.

I will miss the sweet season of sugar snap peas.

I will miss the sunflower sprouts at the market, and the baskets of berries.

I will miss the perfect summers in Paradise, the crystal veins in Oroville, the smooth bark of manzanita and madrone.

I will miss the creeks and rivers, the canyons and rocks, the wild oat grass in the wind, first green and then forever golden.

I will miss everything golden.

I will miss the sunsets that spread like electric watercolors.

I will miss the smell of driving past acres of peach trees on a hot night in August.

I will miss the thousands of memories I have buried here, in the earth and trees and in my heart.

I will miss cheladas in a can at the creek, I will miss the farm stands on the way to everywhere.

I will miss the mimosa tree in my yard, the irises on the corner, the friends on my porch.

I will miss Rock Creek.

I will miss the granite boulders.

I will miss things I lost and learned.

I will miss who I was when I arrived here, and the tiny 5 year-old I arrived here with.

With all of this I hold up my palms, full of miracles and memories,
and pour it all
into the dirt at my feet.



I'll see you in the next chapter. Thank you, California.

Sadie Rose

download my truth manifesto here

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