From Shaniko, we ran away to Sunriver, Oregon. That's where we went after Anne-Marie's first diagnosis so something seemed right about returning there.
Sunriver Resort, Bend and the Central Oregon area is probably one of my favorite places. The vast landscapes of the hight desert have a certain majesty to them that's unique, at least to our region. And I could talk about going there for all the vacations and the good memories of times with my dad (probably about the only good memories with him).
I don't really know if location mattered in this case.
It's crazy what happens when you really make the time---really take the time--to talk. Kids, media, life and all the survival stuff keeps that from happening most of the time.
Wherever we ended up at the end of our running, we were there with the specific goal to talk and I've always considered myself good at talking. Maybe even somewhat of a conversationalist. But when you really have to talk. When you really need to talk, the words don't come as easily.
Likes, dislikes, ideas and memories all make for a good talk, but at certain point you have to deal with those other things:
The talks weren't easy, but somewhere along the banks of the Deschutes River and under the seductive sway of the lodgepole pines we found the strength to talk, to think, to pray and to listen.
Now we're back home and it's hard. It's really hard. But I know if I wasn't married to someone who was willing to be so transparent and vulnerable, this would be so much harder.