O is for Oregon

(Although technically it is now Tuesday, I have not yet gone to bed, so for me it is still Monday, and Monday turned out to be a day when I did not get to write my blog early, which is good because I now have a better idea what I'm going to say. Maybe.)

My name is Michelle and I am from Oregon. I've been from Oregon my whole life. The last time I lived in Oregon was almost 30 years ago. The last time I was in Oregon was seven years ago. In the fall I wear green and gold, even though the university I went to is ten minutes from my house and their colors are blue and white. (I don't really like football all that much to begin with, but I'll cheer for the Ducks over anyone else.) I can be in a canyon in the mountains in less than fifteen minutes, but I still miss mountains with individual peaks that I used to know the names of (Mt Hood will always be my mountain) and glaciers. And trees. And rain. I actually miss rain that stays for days, not the stuff that blows through here in a couple of hours and is gone. And I miss the ocean. Not just any ocean, but the wildness of the Oregon coast, the driftwood and the agates and the tidal pools. And waterfalls. And the color green.

Several years ago I heard a visiting poet from Wales give a presentation at BYU. He read some of his poems, and one in particular had a Welsh word in it that he had to define for us. The word is hiraeth, and he described it as being "how a Welshman feels about Wales." I instantly teared up and started to cry. I know EXACTLY what that word means. That's how I feel about Oregon. (If you google it, you will generally find two things: it does not translate into English, and when they do give a definition, it's homesickness or longing.)

So I'm from Oregon, and I can be pretty snobby about it. It's the prettiest state in the Union, as most Oregonians will tell you (we're all a bit snobby about it).