
I discovered Peninsula Park in Portland a couple of weeks ago. A dear friend had just passed away and I brought a book in with me, thinking I'd visit a park after an Alanon meeting. I had the wrong address for the meeting and missed it, but I googled parks near the water. The first one Google sent me to was in a gritty industrial area, water barely visible over cranes and forklifts. I dispensed with the water requirement and found Peninsula Park, the first rose garden in Portland, an exquisite, compact version of Portland's famous International Rose Garden.
On a quiet bench, I opened my book as trees rustled in the breeze and a sweet, delicate scent washed over me. Taking in the wide vista of roses, I glanced beside me on the bench, where I nearly expected my friend to nod back. She was gone now, but she was with me. It was the kind of place where we would have chatted for hours.
In a few weeks, I'm embarking on a great adventure to Kenya and Tanzania. A safari, a dream trip. It's daunting traveling so far away—22 hours to Nairobi, then overnight, and another short flight to Mount Kilamanjaro Airport in Tanzania. Just saying "I'm going to Africa" sounds like I'm dropping off the edge of the earth. I'll meet the tour in Tanzania but up to that point, I'm on my own. When I experience doubt, I remember the lions, giraffes, and elephants I'm going to see. I remember my reluctance to set out on the voyage with John and Kate and leave everything behind. I remember how nervous I was before my book launch party.
I think it will be amazing.