Just a train ride away

Part 9 waterfalls, tears and farewells

Multnomah Falls

Before we begin, I want to reiterate how much my readers’ support and involvement during this series means to me. Your excitement and feedback have been a driving force, and I am deeply grateful. While I would have enjoyed writing about this journey just for myself, your support has made it all the more remarkable.

Also, I'm thrilled to have welcomed a number of new subscribers recently. Your presence adds a new dimension to this series. If you're interested in catching up, you can start here and then continue on my webpage here for the remainder of the posts. 

Lastly, this voiceover was particularly difficult to read aloud without becoming emotional, not that that should surprise any of my long-standing readers. I considered trying a few more takes, and then decided the subjects I’m discussing are worth a few tears, starts and stops, and the need to clear my throat.

I stand at the base of Multnomah Falls, gazing up at nothing short of a miracle of nature. It is an overcast day with occasional showers. I welcome the coolness. This will be my last day to visit with Sharon and the girls. Tomorrow, we will begin our journey home by train once again.

According to the USDA Forest Service, "Multnomah Falls is one of the tallest year-round waterfalls in the United States and is the most visited natural recreation site in the Pacific Northwest. Six volcanic flows of Grande Ronde Basalt are visible in the fall's cliff face, representing more than 400,000 years of geological history." 

I consider this geological history compared to the biological history I have been exploring on this trip. I have been concentrating on one woman, my grandmother Augustus Foulke, and her offspring, but how many other souls we haven't even begun to consider are visible on our faces, Sharon's, RuthAnn's, and mine? Nature offers no shortage of reminders that life is full of miracles and mysteries that we could spend a lifetime exploring.

Multnomah Falls is nothing short of breathtaking. Margie and Debbie show us photos of the falls covered in ice. I must return in the winter, this year or next.

After viewing the falls and reading about the history, we duck out of the intermittent raindrops and head into the restaurant nestled beneath the falls. It's a perfect setting with dark wood walls, high ceilings, windows inviting in the beauty of the surrounding landscape, and a large fireplace, an ideal backdrop for our final lunch of the trip. The atmosphere is filled with nostalgia and excitement generated by the visitors. We talk of life, past, present, and future, Debbie's upcoming birthday plans, nothing and everything— life.

Lunch passes quicker than I would like, and we wander through the small gift shop below the restaurant. There was a time when I would have needed to purchase something as a souvenir. Today, I have all the gifts I need tucked into my heart.

We are not yet ready to part as we return to our cars. We decide on one last stop at a local mall. We move through a few stores, stretching our time together more than shopping. Margie and I steal a few minutes alone on a bench outside, just enough time to chat briefly about Sharon. Margie asks for my thoughts. While I am cognizant of Sharon’s changes, I'm happy to suggest that she is only in the beginning stages of dementia, and there is much to be grateful for and cherish during this time. We share an unspoken resignation as Debbie, Rick, and Sharon emerge from one of the shops.

Minutes later, Sharon and I end our visit much like we began in the tea room, with a long hug and a few tears; hugs and kisses with my sweet nieces before we jump into our respective cars and head back to RuthAnn's for our last evening before heading home. 

This trip has filled my soul with treasures I will spend the next few months unwrapping, perhaps in a "10-part series on Substack?" 

Next week will be the final post in this series. Again, thanks for being here.

Tales of a Wayward Yogini is a reader-supported publication dedicated to lifting one another through stories of healing and acceptance. Please consider supporting this work by becoming a free or paid subscriber! Pressing the heart button or restack (two arrows forming a heart) at the top of the post also helps support my work. Namaste.