Pounding like a
pushed too-far heartbeat
Each careful syllable
of the word California
paused like slow-motion in my mind
Because I was a small town girl
with no knowledge of highways that stretch
across the length of a state
And I didn’t understand that a backyard of
chard grass could drink of a brief
season of rain
and resurrect green
before dying, again
Inviting a restless hope
that it would soon snow
and we’d wake up with
tears in our eyes
Grateful that mother nature
came through
I was scared because I didn’t know
what home could feel like
________
I didn’t know I’d love California,
that I’d never tire of the mountain
that hovered over our town like a guardian
It was a silly thing, but I pretended we were family
When the craggy slope swelled in the distance,
always painted with snow,
I saw it and knew I was home
________
I couldn’t have known—
Because I was a small thinker
and my ideas of this place were
packed into tiny preconceived notions
from television and movies
California was where the stars lived
and no one had told me that the Golden State
had golden hills
bursting with crimson poppies
And no one said, “If you move here,
You’ll never want to live another place.”
Naivety brought me
but the truth
became like an anchor
Stretching from my heart
into the rich valley soil
that brought life to every seed
planted there
I was that seed—
and I never wanted to leave
___
Today a little voice at my side asked
why we left,
if we were so happy,
why did I pack all of our belongings
into the back of a Uhaul
Let it rumble in the driveway
as I planted myself in the backyard,
snapping pictures of my favorite rosebush
that always smelled like
a delicious perfume my favorite
Grandma wore when I was little
and she held me against her heart
Even then I knew I had things to do—
Places to be
and I unraveled myself from comfort
to believe for more
More than what?
I now wonder
But I don’t say it out loud
“We left because we couldn’t stay,”
I say,
and the only hope I feel
is that one day it will
make sense
_______
I went home last year
but only to visit,
To stand on the
vast expanse
of shoreline and marvel
at the majesty
of something much bigger than me
And I felt a blanket
drape across my shoulders
Comfort sink into my bones
The gentle wash of static waves
pulling me deeper
into their icy hold
and I cried because
I forgot
how right it feels
to be where you’re supposed to be
To feel that much peace
But when you’re lower-class
America
You don’t choose these things
You follow security
and tell yourself that thirty years from now,
maybe you’ll find yourself on this same shoreline
whispering to the waves,
“Thanks for waiting.”
________
Eden Campbell 