Camarillo

“Where the sunlight meets the horizon,

And quiet goes the evening breeze,

In a place I’ve grown so familiar,

And where sleep comes with ease.

As the night rolls in and covers me

And the earth becomes wet with dew

Through the rolling hills and blue skies

That is where I’ll go to find you.

Oh what beauty awaits me when I’m asleep,

For only in my dreams are you mine to keep.”

                                              -L. Selbrede

I wrote this poem many years ago in piecemeal chunks of thoughts. I actually started writing it in a hotel room in Las Cruces, and didn’t finish it until about a year and a half later. I named it “Camarillo” after the place I started my new journey of self-discovery.

The meaning behind it is not straight forward. It’s a love letter to someone… That someone being me.

“Booooo hiiiissss, we want the tea! Spill it!!”

But seriously though! For a long time I had to mourn an identity I crafted while I lived there… in fact, that was the hardest part to grieve was this image of myself that I cultivated while living in a California coastal dreamland. You see, I think that’s something that most people don’t recognize when it comes to grieving. Everyone always thinks you’re grieving a loved one, a pet, loss of a home, loss of memories, etc… but nobody ever prepares you for grieving the loss of your identity and the future you had planned for yourself. That isn’t to say though, that I am happy that this chapter of my life ended and am extremely content with the woman I ended up being… but for a long time I struggled with it. I had pictured myself to be this cool, earthy, surfer woman who hiked the California coast, ate acai bowls, and surfed the beaches in Ventura instead of this person I am today whom can’t even surf Galveston without getting a staph infection.

But like I said before, I’m glad it all turned out the way it did and I don’t even miss that version of me anymore.