Again, that yearly pilgrimage to where I grew up. I’m sitting in the same ol’ coffee shop that I usually do my finger tapping, but the owner isn’t the same.

She sold it to a couple who’s slowly in the middle of a remodeling and learning the ropes. I wish them the best of luck. Right now, they know what my drink is, since I come in every few days here and there and plus I’m easily recognizable with my hair the way it is.

Boy and his dog 2013. What can I say about it?

Let’s start at the beginning, the drive.

I didn’t have a problem with the drive to Fresno. That was fine and uneventful. It felt unlike any other drive that I have done to Fresno. My problem was the drive up to Seattle. It just felt longer, slower, and more tiring. Maybe I am just getting old with my age and my body just can’t handle the drive anymore. I don’t know, but it definitely took its toll on me.

Portland.

That’s when the dog problems started. That’s when Pickles became an asshole.

Pickles and Portland has a long history. Every time that we visited and that I left him at Phinney’s alone while I’m out to dinner, something always happens. He broke out twice. Chewed/slipped out of his leash harness multiple times and destroyed the screen door.

This year, taking everything that I have experienced with Pickles at Portland, I was prepared. He’s got a body harness that is tight. No possible way to slip out of it. I brought out the metal nylon leash. No way can he chew out of it. I slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I locked the deck door. Done and done. Done and done. No way can he slip out. No way at all.

Dinner.

Dinner was fine. Got to caught up with Julie and the kids. Emerson have problems with my hair and Mason thinks I look like an ant. It was fine, they’re kids, and I’m okay with that. I loved it when Emerson pointed out how bad my hair was and that it was stupid in front of the Waitress. It was kind of awesome and cute in the kiddie sort of way.

But dinner was fine. Chatted and caught up with Phinney for a bit and then went home. I do have to say, I was a little bit anxious when I got there. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in. Will Pickles be where I left him? Will he be gone? But he was fucking inside when Emerson opened the garage door.

He was fucking inside.

I looked at the crime scene. The sliding glass door was still closed and locked. I stepped outside, he slipped his harness. Fucking asshole.

I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How the fuck did this fucker get in?

I didn’t see it until Julie pointed to it. The fucking window. The mother fucking open window that lead to the living room. The windows.

More damage. The window screen in the living room was scratched out, destroyed and pushed out the window. It was too high for Pickles to jump thankfully.

I apologized profusely for his misdeeds, his little tempers tantrums, that fucking asshole. Bitch ass cunt of a dog. My dog.

Julie reported more problems while I was driving up; another window screen got damaged and the ultimate fuck you to everyone, he peed on their bed. That mother fucker.

That was Portland. What a nightmare. We will no longer be having dinner in Portland. It is done. I cannot outsmart him, which is kind of sad.

* * *

Dog issues number two started almost the next day. Pickles seems to have an infestation problem. His ass seems to be bitten all over and then he started to chew on his tail. I knew exactly what he’s going to do, so I bought him some shampoo and an anti irritation spray. Gave him a bath and that seems to help a bit, but his tail was gone.

He had a hot spot. I took him to the vet and he got a steroid injection and an ointment along with the cone of shame.

Thankfully, it all cleared up and everything, and now he’s back to normal.

Karma.

* * *

For this trip has been going as planned. Smooth sailing, dog issues aside. I got to catch up with family, seeing everyone bit by bit and just catching up.

Then I got a few good hiking trips in, one day with Pickles who seems to have enjoyed it immensely. But I did notice that he’s tiring out quickly. He doesn’t have the same kick in his legs anymore. Maybe it is his age that is showing.

It breaks my heart a bit to see that he doesn’t have the same amount of energy anymore, that he’s getting older, but it just warms up to see him try and keep up. He puts up with me. It just makes me smile to see him still try to scare the pigeons, geese, ducks, birds, whenever there is a flock around, even though he’s really tired.

I still see that and it just warms me.

He’s my copilot in life right now, my wingman in my little journeys. He’s my soul mate; if that is possible, but I feel that it is.

* * *

Montana, the small road trip with big gains. The brotherly bonding experience.

Glacier National Park.

I don’t think any words or descriptions that I can come up with can do that place any justice. Let’s just say that it is the most beautiful place I have ever stepped my two feet on in the lower 48.

I was just in complete awe the whole time, especially when we took the shuttle up to Logan’s pass. Just in awe. Just beautiful.

I was a little annoyed with my brother though, sure I shouldn’t have, but I was being impatient.

Whether he was winded from the high altitude and wasn’t able to adjust to it or he was out of shape in terms of cardio with all the workouts that he does or what, I have no idea. His legs started to cramp up and he was slow, and we just started.

Our first hike wasn’t even that strenuous at all. I’ve done worse without any problems, but there will be times when he’s so far behind that I can’t even see him anymore. Both his legs cramped up and that was that.

But he managed to keep up and keep the pace on our second hike, the long one, the most important one. So, that was good, but that fucked up his knees, which he has problems with.

I don’t know how bad it is, but it doesn’t seem like he can walk on it.

We took it easy on the second day with a short easy hike. After we got to Avalanche Lake, I went to explore it on my own, leaving him on his own. His knee.

But our time there was nice. Got to ask him a few questions in regards to his social life and dating. It was awkward, but I needed to know.

The scenery is very nice. I miss it already. I miss it already.

* * *

A new day, a new stride, but same ol’ paradise.

My days up here are coming to an end. My days are numbered, before I hit in my steel contraption on wheels and drive the 18 hours to the place where I rest my head. Home.

Home is such a relative term.

Many people say Home is where the heart is, but I think, Home is where you make it.

I have two homes. The new found old home that I have made up here in the great ol’ Pacific Northwest. It’s different from what I grew up with. The lifestyle is different. It’s changed so much, but there is still a semblance of home.

Family surrounds me up here. The dynamics of family has changed so much, so it seems. Whereas growing up it has always been cousins and uncles/aunts on my father’s side, and now, it is a mixture of both.

I make an effort to make all the rounds and visit all of the family that I grew up with. It’s important.

I know many would think that I don’t have a family bone in my body, being that I moved so far away without the thought of moving back, but I do love family.

Why wouldn’t I?

* * *

Seattle.

Proper Seattle.

These past few years, I have been able to explore Seattle like I never was able to do before while I was growing up.

Mainly because I didn’t have the means to do it because my parents were never the type to just go and explore. To them, Seattle was just Chinatown and they were okay with that.

But now, as I gotten to see Seattle more, the different facets of it, I’m falling in love with it more and more.

Spending the day in Seattle the other day, it really did make me miss the PNW. It really made me feel that maybe, just maybe it’ll be okay for me to move back. I don’t have to live with my mom and brother, that would never happen, but to maybe live in Seattle.

Just maybe.

That’s a viable option now.

But there’s still a part of me that still love the life I’m living in Los Angeles, and there’s another big part of me that would just love to pick up and move to Chicago.

Options.

That’s when things get deadly. You have to make a choice and the choice is all on you.

Options.

Life.

It’s such a blank slate. Anything can happen. I can only welcome it with open arms. Take whatever comes my way.

* * *