1859 Sept | Oct 2018

Until Next Time
Home Is Where Oregon Is
written by Maiah Miller
THE LOVE I FEEL for Oregon grows in my life much like the native pine tree. I have a delicate
version inked on my wrist as a constant reminder of the Pacific Northwest, and each flash of the
boughs peeking from my sleeve reminds me of home.
As a military spouse, I move often, seemingly farther away from my birthplace of Eugene with
each duty station. I carry this love for my home state like a security blanket. It is something I can
reach for and cling to in times of homesickness. Oregon invades my thoughts when daydreaming,
like the fog along the coast. I find ways to weave my love of the state into my life, even when I’m
physically far from the valley I grew up in.
When I first left the state to move with my twin to
Texas, we followed the only car with Oregon license
plates we had seen in the vast state and eagerly accosted
them when they parked, excitedly asking them where
they were from. After much confusion, we realized they
were driving a rental car and had no idea their license
plates were Oregon plates.
When my husband deployed for the second time to
Afghanistan, going home was my lifesaver. I loaded up
my car with running shoes and our newly adopted puppy
and drove sixteen hours straight to Eugene. Eugene was
my refuge for those long months of separation, and it
was only the safe return of my Marine that made me
travel back to San Diego.
Our next duty station was Monterey, and this time
the drive to Oregon was shorter. In nine hours I could
be home, running the Amazon trail, sipping coffee
with my mother at Noisette bakery, dancing at Ballet
Fantastique or simply roaming the aisles of Market of
Choice. Eugene made my heart beat faster. The cleaner
air, the greener trees and abundant organic and healthier
food invigorated me.
Even having twins didn’t slow me down. Becoming a
new mother released a maternal longing for my native
home, so I counted down the days until I could bring my
new family to Oregon. After my girls were born (while
my husband was on assignment), I convinced my friend
in Portland to fly down and drive me back with my tiny
infants. The twins made their first trip to Oregon at six
months, with a joyful whoop from me when crossing
the state line (instantly regretted when I remembered
the little babies sleeping in the backseat). Even if they
wouldn’t remember their first Oregon trip, I wanted my
girls to be immersed in the love I have for Oregon.
When my husband was finally on leave and able to
travel with us, I delighted in navigating my favorite
trails and coffee shops as a family. It was a wonderful
experience to introduce him to “all things Oregon”, and
show him the beauty of my state.
Now I am almost the farthest away I could be while
still remaining in the U.S., and I have to bite my tongue
to keep from critically comparing everything to my
beloved Oregon. (It’s not this humid in Oregon! We
have scenic running trails in Oregon. In Oregon you can
actually find vegan restaurants. Oregon doesn’t have
these terrible spider-cricket hybrids. And so on.)
When I force myself to stay in the present, I appreciate
my current community. I’m meeting new friends and
exploring the state we temporarily call home. But the
pine tree on my wrist reminds me of where my heart is
and I find myself dreaming of the day we load up the car
and head west to Oregon—this time for good.
112 1859 OREGON’S MAGAZINE SEPTEMBER | OCTOBER 2018