We returned to Yosemite every December for our anniversary, plus extra trips here and there to hike waterfall trails not open during the winter. We had a favorite room, we bought an annual pass, we volunteered on nature work crews, I had a special Yosemite license plate, we donated to the conservancy fund. Yosemite was our park and we did our best to take care of it.
Along the way, we started collecting replicas of vintage posters featuring activities in the park. Horseback riding, ice skating, fireside chats with park rangers, hikes up Half Dome, open-air bus tours of the valley. We had nine posters in all and had them framed and hanging on one wall...one very large, tall wall...in our Bay Area house. I loved the bright colors and the reminders of one of my favorite places on earth.
When we moved to Woodhaven, the posters found new homes in our Washington living room and guest bathrooms. Visitors occasionally asked about them, mostly along the lines of "So...you like Yosemite?"
A few months ago, staring at the posters and trying to remember the last time we were in Yosemite (2005 -- I checked), it occurred to me that maybe it was time for a change. Maybe it was time to let go of past loves and embrace current ones.
The art distributor was quite surprised when I called to ask about the easiest way to order 11 large prints. I was delighted to discover he lives in our county and was willing to meet in a Target parking lot to avoid shipping charges. We chatted about artists and bridges and wine and travel and where in the world we were going to hang 11 prints. As I promised him photos and exchanged private email addresses, I smiled at the easy familiarity and friendliness that would have scared and confused me when we first moved here over nine years ago.
As of two nights ago, Yosemite is a dear, beloved memory tucked in a closet. Our walls now celebrate this season in our lives. Our living room now reflects our adopted "big city" of Portland and her sister, Seattle. There's a poster from the coastal town where we have celebrated our anniversary for the past seven years. A 5-years-annual wine trip with friends is commemorated, as is a favorite Alaskan town with a great story that started with Norovirus and ended with getting a glimpse of the real Alaska without the influx of cruise ship tourists. One poster reminds me of the day we purposely went to a particularly exposed vista point to experience 80mph winds; another will hopefully help me finally learn the names of Portland's nine bridges that connect the east and west sides of town.
Some friends came over yesterday. I hadn't mentioned anything about our new decorating project, and I wasn't sure how noticeable the change would be. Within minutes, admiring the new but familiar locales adorning our walls, two of them noted, "So you finally decided to move here, huh?"
Some changes seem so small yet they reflect something quite big. Yes, California is a large part of who we are, but the Pacific Northwest is more and more who we are becoming.
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