July 29th
Dear Mom,
The wide river valleys of North Dakota are what I imagine when I hear people talk about the Oregon Trail and read about having to ford the rivers. I know the Oregon Trail didn't come anywhere near North Dakota, but the image is there for me.
I visited the Minot Air Force Base today. They have tours available for people interested. They're probably more geared toward families that have members interested in possibly joining the force, but it was still educational and enjoyable for me.
You know my obsession with all things flying.
Speaking of, I heard that the Spruce Goose is in Oregon right now near McMinnville, and I'm incredibly sad I missed seeing it. Another thing you wouldn't have let me miss if you'd been with me.
It's rained several times since I arrived and yesterday evening, just before the sun began to set it broke through the clouds to present a beautiful double rainbow.
I've been learning so much about the Plains Tribes. There's so many individual tribes with different origins and languages, it's fascinating, and they're happy to share about their heritage. I met a girl named Taluta who gave me a tour of the land her family has been on for generations.
She told me a little bit about their naming system, but I don't think I could write it down coherently. Apparently though, the name they're born with isn't especially their name for the rest of their lives. Especially historically, special accomplishments or experiences could allow them to claim another name.
I felt so privileged that I was given the opportunity to learn from someone who's ancestors were here long before my ancestors were. It's always a treasure to learn the heritage of others, isn't it?
I wonder if something like this trip would count as an experience worthy of a new name, and what my name would be at the end of it.
Of course my name is already not the one I was born with. Aurelia always seemed like such a mouthful it didn't seem worthwhile to tell anyone it was my real name when Bo is simple.
I looked it up this morning to see what it means, or if it even has a meaning, and apparently it's a male name mostly. Oh well.
It means “to live”, which feels a little ironic right now. Maybe that makes it an especially good name for this journey where I'm discovering exactly what living will be like for me from now on.
Maybe it will be time for a different name when I'm finally able to return home and reclaim the life I ran from. I wonder if I'll even recognize myself at that point, or if it I will have changed so much I'll be as much a mystery to myself as life is to me at this moment.
I have been staring at my phone for the last thirty minutes trying to get up the courage to call Dad. It never would have been this hard before, but I can't seem to force myself to dial his number. Maybe it's because I don't think he'd be happy to hear from me. Maybe he is happier only having necessary conversations with me.
Maybe it would be easier to write him a letter, but every time I think of that I can hear your voice in my head telling me apologies should always be made with my voice. That written things should be for positive things and never to say sorry.
But maybe I should try writing a letter to someone who would write back. I feel like a traitor even thinking it, and I'm not sure who I'd write to at this point. It just seems like the kind of think you're supposed to do when you're traveling. Buy postcards from the tourist traps, scribble notes on them, and send them to relatives.
Aunt Janet would probably be surprised to hear from me and shocked at where the postcards were from if I did something like that.
I should tell her about this trip, but I'm sure Dad already has, and I'm just not ready to hear her reproachful voice asking me how I could do this to him and shame your memory in such a way.
I know that makes me sound ungrateful after everything Aunt Janet has done for us, but even you used to comment regularly on her ability to make everything we did sound like we should be ashamed for dropping into such vulgarity.
I miss her, I suppose. She was kind to me, even if I had to ignore the manipulative twist her words sometimes took. If I were home she would be insisting I come over for dinner at least once a week, and plying me with coupons to help with the grocery shopping.
Remember when she gave you that coupon for that pizza brand she loves so much and when you didn't use it on time she complained for months?
This lonely night feels a little less lonely with these happy memories for company.
I do still miss you.
I love you,
Bo
I'll have to make a point of calling Aunt Janet before too long. She's not going to appreciate my lack of communication for the last few months, and I shouldn't have made her wait this long to hear from me.
She's the one who taught me first that my anxiety didn't make me weak. I appreciate that about her now more than ever.
Kee has become part of my calming habit every night before bed. He's so soft and comforting, and it's a relief somehow to have something to hold onto when the dark closes in and my mind fights to identify the truth from the terror.
I'm going to sleep now. Hopefully the calming influence of the music I've been listening to will be enough to keep away the night terrors. Wherever you are, whatever you're going through. Please take a moment to take a breath and find something good. Be kind to yourself.