I moved to Eugene, Oregon from a small town jammed up in the northern panhandle of West Virginia, with a want for something more contemporary and a social attitude that was more open to the ideas and the ways of life that I wanted to grow around. The culture shock was beyond what I could have ever braced for. Eugene isn’t even that big, but it definitely could move up a weight class and hold its own. The university ushers in progression that bleeds into the city; one that still seems to hang on to some smaller town ideals. It really thrives on the philosophies of building smaller communities that try to navigate the changes ahead. The city has most certainly had its share of gentrification through the embrace of the craft beer industry over the past decade, but these companies moving in have also created jobs for locals; yet, Eugene also has the largest homeless persons per capita in the US. Through all of it, I think it's either a beautiful mess or a mess of beauty. I still can't quite tell which.
Five and a half years later, I very much feel like my time here has come to an end; and that I've probably overstayed my welcome. I never knew when to call it a night. I could never be the person to say the party is over. But I feel like I can now, and maybe that's the person I grew into here. The version of myself leaving Eugene is still me, but I am also completely different. This town has had me at my best and my worst. I found my confidence here. I've loved and I've lost. I've made beautiful connections and missed a couple as well. I do get to take all of what I learned with me as I go. All the memories. All the experiences. I get to say that I met some of the most important people of my life here. I know they'll be with me for a long time no matter where we are.
Oddly enough, I have a distant cousin that lives in Eugene. I’ve never met her, but my grandfather visited her here years ago. Apparently, he just spoke of how green it was. It’s not called the Emerald City for nothing. The city just glows. This odd connection makes something about that way the trees radiate very special to me.
I’ll miss floating the rivers and camping the forests. Hiking the sandy dunes and driving the mountainous byways. The blood moons and eerie eclipses. The spontaneous bursts of snow and ice. There is no shortage of beauty, except maybe from November through May when you can’t buy a dry day or a ray of sunlight. And even that has its allure. I’ll miss fighting those driving rains, and that dry Oregon heat. I’ve seen Eugene blossom and I’ve seen it burn; but now I really fell like its time to go back home… to the place I belong.
Chris Tsekouras is a failed overachiever and wage slave. Full of high aspirations but little motivation, Chris spends his days creating meaningless art that get shuffled into notebooks that nobody will ever see, or attempting to play instruments without putting much practice or effort into getting better. He soon will be older, and one day closer to death.
