I’m tired of the rain.

Tired of the passive way that the barista asks if I want oatmilk, cashew milk, or something I’ve never heard of in my coffee.

I’m tired of the endless cold in the winter, never able to get warm, always wishing for summer.

And yet..

I love how pine trees smell in the morning

The sound of the busy REI next to what used to be a bustling mall. The Mountains, ferns and the swishing of puffer jackets that fill my mind when I think of what I call home.

Looking around every corner, trees are visible from every house, their green has taught me from such a young age what colors could really be.

As I make a map in my mind of this great state, I think about how different I am from my friends across the mountains. The hotter summers, snowier winters and the fields and farms that provide most of our food.

the rain and darkness we have near the cold, icy coast.

Listening to NPR, bookstores, Pike Place market, all famous for being our home.

Our home that guides us, lets us be free with the freedoms that many don’t have

Our home has turned into the best place I know

Our home has turned into my home.