The Hardest Part of having the chains that we forged, that bound us together, is that they are figurative and who am I, if I am not bound to the love of my life?
Dancing: Dave and I
Hiking: Mt. Hood
The letter he wrote to me when he sent the bird nest to my house.
After over a dozen years the bird-nest deteriorated. Ah, molecules...
"In your dream one night, I knelt beside the bed we shared, to press my cheek against your naked breast and listen to your heart. Whispering, I am the ghost of Christmas past ~ I am your history. I wear the chains that bind our hearts ~ do you remember me?"
Annie-Dear!
I don't regret a moment spent looking in your eyes. I hear your "whoop" echoing a thousand times across the snowy forest in the night. And when I walk the beach at night, I will remember when – when our passion burned like a beach fire blowing in the wind. I am the Dipper in the North Sky. I'm a midnight bicycle ride. I'm a river float, warm hands, gentle touches. I'm fire light on the river with it's awesome midnight afterglow – I am The Chains.
When you sit beside your Christmas tree, I wonder if you'll think of me, so I give to you a link of chain – forged in adventure, tempered in love, and paid for with passion and pain. Please accept this gift – I think you'll agree – this nest belongs upon your Christmas tree.
Merry Christmas,
"The Chains"
David
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Biking: Bridge Pedal (the first one ever) and beach biking
Boating: Garibaldi, Clackamas River, Tillamook Spit
Hiking: Angels Rest, Columbia Gorge
If you ever find yourself empty from something you cannot know or name, find a stretch of ocean, a field, a mountainside, or even clouds or trees. Because there are a thousand simple ways to fill your tired soul, so you can remember how to be, how to see, and most importantly --- how to BREATHE.
~ Victoria Erikson
THE BEACH: Ft. Stevens, the wreck of the Peter Iredale --- always nostalgic for us
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