Trail of Onions

I just finished my second trip back to Walla Walla since graduating in June.

At first, it was literally the “trail of onions” as I made my way up Highway 84, appropriate for the "Walla Walla Sweets" that this part of the country is known for: More than one large dump truck full of farm-fresh onions passed me, going either way, and soon after that I began to notice single, small onions along the side of the road—ones that had blown off the top of the truck, suddenly rogue, abandoned, and forlorn. It amused me, watching every mile or so for the next onion to appear. I would catch gleaming shards of their copper skin in the sun, and then sure enough, a partly-squashed onion next to a milepost a few feet away. Poor little onions. No one to enjoy them in a future sandwich, or make them into future pasta sauce…  I also thought of traditional Hansel and Gretel, who dropped trails of bread crumbs through the woods to know their way back. I appreciated my obscure little "guides" back to Walla Walla for nearly 2 hours of my trip.

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It is a strange and surreal sensation, driving back onto the WWU campus as a graduate, although after four solid, golden years, it is also the most familiar and comfortable feeling in the world.

Tears came both times as prominent fixtures emerged into sight: the old College Place water tower; the regal Ad Building; the majestic U-Church steeple.

I passed the DX, the SM office, Conard/Foreman Hall, and my beloved FAC.

I stopped on College Ave to let hurried students cross to classes.

I drove straight by Kellogg Hall without much remorse:) …the entrance is remodeled!

I recalled late nights in the ASWWU offices, working hard on each weekly issue of The Collegian.

And I peered through the Atlas windows to see which barista was working.

Once on Whitman Rd, I took in all the village houses and apartments where my friends had dwelled. Each house is significantly theirs forever, in my mind, though no doubt, new occupants are there as we speak. How selfish to claim these buildings as my own, or for my own era, when they “belonged” to so many before me! Walla Walla University was mine, but not first mine. I inherited it, like others, from others. We made the most of our time. I am forever thankful for those years of transformation, discovery, and growth. Friends. Music. Travel. God. How fortunate I feel as a result of this place!

And I feel lucky that I have the opportunity to drive back for a visit as often as I choose— with more than just onions guiding me.