Yeah, who knows.
I’m too busy looking at power lines, telephone wires, street light’s tall tower;
tall piles of brick, rectangles aglow against traffic’s rush to even ever notice the moon or stars in a city. And in a grand hotel aside interstate’s constant hum, I was too distracted to even ever notice the absence of foghorn, ferry signal or frog’s song. I did, however, notice the giggles from a top-floor salt pool aside sweeping views of loading docks, shipping containers, ferries at rest.
We took a drive, a ferry, a long asphalt trail south to Seattle.
I always feel luck’s pulse whenever Priceline lands us next to Seattle’s new Central Library. The undergraduate architecture student still lives inside me and is in awe of this library’s interior and exterior movement: modern, crisp, clever.
I always feel luck’s pulse whenever all five of us are napping at the same time, and I honor time’s window when I can skip out the door, into a coffee parlor and explore city streets with camera in hand.
While skipping along, clicking photos I walked by a homeless man. I didn’t make eye contact or disturb him in any way (or at least I thought). As soon as I passed him, I heard the ruffle of trash bags, the scurry of a heavy body and hard breathing.
Yup. He started chasing me up the hill.
So much for peaceful walks through city streets.
Shit, I hate the city, ran through my head. So did, thank god I run and why didn’t I just stay in the hotel room and watch Behind the Music on VH1? I sprinted all the way up hill, around the block and to the door man, who asked if I was alright when he saw my look of horror as I entered the lobby.
Yeah, there’s tons of weirdos around here. You’ve got to be careful, he said.
Maybe I shouldn’t leave my tiny island, I said.
Horizon’s familiarity, so low and far-stretching across waves, bull kelp, logs adrift.
Still, there is beauty in the city.
Off island to find iinspiration in lines, patterns, muted urban colors.
My Next Quilt
Olive, say cheese. Cheeeeesssseeeeee. Olive, I love you. Wooove wooooo.
Cousins at play, giggles over remember when stories and, simply, hearing our girls say Grandma, Grandpa on a regular basis makes me wish we all lived on one long, glorious street.
Freshly squeezed orange juice, King Salmon eggs Benedict: yup. Awesome.
We went to a Sounders game. ML Soccer is rad. Explosion of fan-crazed chants, a sea of team colors round stadium’s circle of stands.
Betty and Lucy brought Elisabeth-doll and Lucy-doll decked out in soccer jerseys, tiny cleats and shin guards. Luke got giddy posing the dolls with the stadium in the background. Not much of a sports fan, he was in awe of the soccer superfan, seemingly in every direction as he stood chuckling as the man the dad with two dolls in super-crazy soccer outfits. Funny scene for sure.
I believe there’s something about dolls. In my two daughters I see them ease into a different venue, unfamiliar experience when they experience it through doll play. In their pretend play, the dolls experience their own fears and expectations and in some way prepare them for reality.
It’s cool. We’re down with dolls.
I feel a few income brackets away from becoming the Sounders superfan I found living inside me. I dream of the private plane ride to Boeing Field, the taxi to my private condo where I house all my green/blue Sounders outfits. Maybe I’d even knit my own Sounders regalia scarf. Yup. I loved it.
Luke said, most I loved being with my sweet, funny family.
Olive, say cheese.
Olive, I love you.