On my 12th birthday my family moved to Newport. No not that Newport, or even that one, but Newport Washington. A small town about an hour north of Spokane, an hour and a half south of Canada, and across the street from Idaho.
Until last week I hadn't been back in several years, mostly because life is constantly moving but in part because it's a hard place for me to be. I don't know many people that didn't struggle through middle school and I was no exception. For me it was another new school combined with being 15 miles from civilization and friends.
I loved the land though. My mom owns twelve acres at the top of a mountain with a beautiful view. There's a creek, the start of the Spokane River, that runs alongside her property and enough evergreens to get lost for days.
A decade ago there was an old trappers cabin on the lower edge of the grounds where I used to escape when the trauma of being thirteen got to be too much. A county road project accidentally left the cabin under five feet of dirt a few years ago. My sisters and I used to target practice from the front porch and I have to say I was a pretty good shot.
Newport is a rare place where the ability to make deer jerky is commonplace and little girls (like my sister) aren't frowned upon for having animal skulls as pets. The local movie theater only plays one movie each weekend, but they make a grand production of it!
There are good memories of girls camp and cabaret mixed in there as well. Swimming and fishing in the Pend Orielle River, rollerskating in Sandpoint, performing my first on stage solos.
So much of this little town has stayed the same in twenty years though... maybe that was why it's hard for me to go back, I'm not the same. Back then I was shy and nervous, constantly worried I'd say or do the wrong thing. I like to think that I've found my footing in this world now, that I'm able to stand tall for myself, my family, and my beliefs. Newport was only my home for two years, but those years forever changed who I am.
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