Marty Romero

Measuring change by the things I miss

Winter in Ellensburg from inside my house. 2018 Winter was a long one. This is what winter looked like from the inside of my house.

Measuring change

This winter wasn’t as rough as last, but it feels like it has been twice as long. I have been in Washington just days shy of 20 months. I have been trying to find a way to measure how life is different now from when I first got here, but I can’t find an adequate scale until last week. It is by the things that I miss. These are only a hand full of them:

  • I miss music. I don’t listen to music nearly as much as I did last year. My mind is so occupied with the things that I can’t get to that music doesn’t feel sacred like it did. This makes me really sad. 
  • I miss driving to Cle Elum on Saturday mornings. This became a sacred time for me. I spent an hour writing, drawing, and reading over cup of coffee and a cinnamon twist. Besides being therapeutic, this time gave me a chance to plan things like how I want to spend my time, what kind of person I want to be and what kind of person I don’t want to be. Without that time I feel stuck.
  • I miss journaling. Like music, journaling made me a bit more introspective. It forced me to look more, to listen more, to feel more.
  • I miss my early morning routine. It included cleaning, prepping food for mom, prepping lunch, meditating, and spending time with my cats. 
  • I miss my night routine. It started with an alarm at 9:25pm. “From Eden” by Hozier. 
  • I miss Thursday lunches under the weeping willow tree at school. For an hour I listened to Tom Waitts while I had lunch and looked out at the ducks in the creek. 
  • I miss the kindness of Davis company.
  • I miss my mom. I miss walking by her room and seeing her sitting in bed smiling at me when I passed by. I miss her a lot.
  • I miss LA. I could get lost by myself anywhere, any time. 
  • I miss the feeling of having a home.
  • I miss the feeling of having a friend that I could sit with, talk to, or just joke with
  • I miss a comfortable bed.

When I wrote this, I was listening to this song:

The year that I broke up with my wife my wife broke up with me (she wasn’t my wife yet), this song got me through the sadness.

Jose Romero