The Longest Day
Memory is such a strange part of the human experience. Some memories are just so visceral, recordings of moments that shaped us, nevermind their seeming insignificance. Meanwhile, others fade away to brief flashes and fuzzy imprints, no matter how desperately we want to cling to them. I distinctly remember when I learned about the longest day of the year. I was seven, and didn’t understand what a solstice was, or what it really meant as far as planetary movements and their impacts on weather and temperature. That all went (and, let’s be honest, still kinda goes) over my head. But, I knew that, when my dad woke me up far too early on our Pacific Northwest vacation, the sun shouldn’t be up yet. We were in Newport, Oregon, on our way to see Keiko at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. It was my first visit to the PNW, and even as…