Finding Home in My Perfectly-Worn Birkenstocks

Sep 20

I remember sitting on the sandy porch of Cabin 6

with my bare feet hanging down, my toes a little chilly from the breeze off the lake. I was sipping warm ramen, and laughing with fellow camp counselors. We were on our evening break - it gave us time to rest, chat, and pontificate about all the things that teens of the 90’s did.

I hoped as long as I chuckled at the right times and said the right things, no one could see my broken heart.

Pink pillars of the Northern Lights coming out of the forest into the sky with stars.

Crash Vegas was on repeat that summer.

Their whispy cover of Neil Young’s Pocahontas stirred me in ways I didn’t yet understand. My world was still pretty small back then and Orange Shirt Day wasn’t going to be part of the conversation for another 25 years - but we lived where the TRUTH wasn’t as hidden as it was in other places.

We lived in Northern Ontario along the Great Lakes and there is no place like it. Lichen-covered Canadian Shield heated by the sun all day warmed us late into the night while we watched the stars. Sand between our toes and in our sleeping bags all summer. The smell of campfire smoke in our hair was never rinsed out by the freshest days in Lake Huron.

It was the best place to grow up as long as I wasn’t at home.

I lived my life under that great open sky.

I knew the seasons by the plants that grew and by the way the sun smelled on the pavement. I learned how the moon moved across the sky and how that changed over a year. I’d lay in my bed “upside down” and watch the stars’ reflections on the river from my bedroom window until I fell asleep. I experienced a sense of safety when I was under that sky.

There was one camp-break when we all went home between sessions.

“Home” for me ‘cause it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I spent most breaks with friends back then.

That time, it was late August I believe and I was walking home from my friend’s house in my broken-in-to-the-side-walk “Birks” in my oversized white wool sweater and my corduroy pants. I was dreading that damn front door and dragging my feet to slow down time.

“Ok, God. We doing this? I’m gonna go back to that tar-filled, dark, suffocating place tonight?” Ugh.

I was still young enough that I was expected home - and I was old enough to know that home was bullshit. The heaviness was indescribable. My feet kept walking though…

Then - I felt the hair stand up on my skin.

I felt my chest kinda open, make more room for air, expand with electricity (I can’t find the words to describe the feeling but maybe you know what I mean).

I looked up-

-and me and my woolen-socks-in-sandals stopped. My mouth opened and I think I stopped breathing for just a second.

“Inhale, Elle, inhale.”

I inhaled.

And there they were - the MOST incredible display of the Aurora Borealis I had ever seen. I looked around to see if there were any other humans on the side walk - but no. It was just me and the Northern Lights - and well, God.

“Oh my God,” I exhaled.

“Yes?”

“Is this real?” I shuffled my feet on the ground.

“Yes.”

I stood there held by the sky. I was floating. Weightless. One with all of it. I didn’t know where I began and where the sky ended. It felt like my breath was moving with the waves in the sky. My chest was so open wide that all I can tell ya is that I was “in love”.

I was in love.

I was love.

God was there - swarming as love and light.

It was all one giant thing. We were all light and love. One giant light.

One.

I don’t remember much else from that night.

And no, reader - I was a sober teen - not a drink or intoxicant ever at that age - I knew too much. I knew how those things destroyed families, and broke hearts and took people’s good judgement away.

I think I floated with my feet on the Earth for a few months after that night in my Birks on the sidewalk.

I knew where home was.

It was a good check-in with what is real.

Thank you, God.

On the Eve of our 13th Wedding Anniversary in 2024

My husband and I had been down to the dock already to try and capture the lights on camera. He’s the tech guy who has the patience that I don’t for things like tripods and gimbals. The lights weren’t visible under that full moon, so we’d come inside and were heading to sleep.

I sat down on “my side” of the bed and felt the hair on my arms rise.

I felt my chest begin to open. My breathing got easier. I felt a little weightless. I could feel waves of energy moving through the air and it felt like through me…

“Oh. They’re here. Will you come down to the dock one more time with me?” I found my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head.

He knows that when I “know things” - I do. He rose from his cozy “just-about-to-fall-into-slumber” and grabbed the tripod while I slipped a fresh battery into my camera. Best partner and best friend - ever.

We walked down over the dewy grass trail to the lake - and the green and pink lights were undeniable.

I pressed that “timer” button and I heard myself singing “Aurora Borealis, the icy sky of night, paddles cut the water, in a long and hurried flight…” as my husband rushed back up to the house to get the kids.