Oregon In Daze

Maybe you'll hear me as I cross the state line into Oregon and do a celebratory dance to rival all other state line dances that came before. It will not matter if it is snowing, or if freezing rain is plotting its way in rivulets through the layers of my clothes, adding weight to my pack. I will be in Oregon in days.
Washington will be the last state I'll walk across in the lower 48 yet it is, and always has been Oregon that has put the shine on the last months and miles. Maybe it is some of the stories from the Oregon trail, a trail I too have now walked some days on. Maybe it is the dear friends that live in Oregon I shared the idea of the walk with so many years ago that I now feel their added strength pulling me across these last miles, these last states. Maybe it is the ocean with its patient tide calling me coastal, calling me over last mountain ranges and some of the less than comfortable camps. Could it be my own heart sighing at the thought of being still, feeling that deep inside where all things go to sit and ruminate, sit and settle I have been shaking the globe to see the snow fall in a cabinless field for too long? There does come a tired that a night will not put a pillow under and heal.