talking shit about a pretty sunset

I dropped Jodi off at the airport. We got rained on while saying good bye. I got teary eyed and hugged her for a long time. It was pitch dark on Hwy 5 coming back into the city. The wipers were keeping time to Me and Bobby McGee. Seattle is hidden a little. You don’t really see all it’s bigness until you turn a corner or round a bend and boom – lights everywhere. That’s how it was tonight. Like fireworks.

I got off on Seneca and the exit twisted me around through downtown. All the stone and glass buildings, black concrete street, side guards, painted lines, medians – they look the same as the city I still think of as home. Seattle is much bigger. Much prettier. More hills and views and bustle. But that little section, the up close of a few buildings paired with a highway exit and a nighttime sky reminded me of home. Once I was spit out onto Seneca, it was Seattle again. I was on top of a steep hill facing out to a jet black ocean. By the W Hotel. There were cobblestones and people out still. I was just a few blocks from work. From my apartment. From my neighborhood.

I have one toe in the water of making this my home. Some days I’m ready to leave. Not sure to where. Or how I’d get there. Or what I’d do when I got there. But some days, I just don’t want to be here. It seems too big and scary. Too much work. Too little friendship and no soft place to lay my head. And other days - other days - I’m glad I came. I assume it’ll even out. The glad I cames will over take the ready to leaves. I’ll be settled. I’ll be in the water with my hair wet. I’ll know the best place for pizza. Someone will wave at me from the bus. I’ll say that I’m gonna go to Minneapolis for a few days instead of saying I’m going home.

One ruby slipper click done. A few baby steps taken. My apartment kinda looks like someone lives there.

Tuesday night happy hour with Mike went until 2am. We bar hopped and drank through $60. Talked a lot about photography. I’m surprised at how much I remember from art school. F stops and aperture. Light meters and contrast. We also talked about philosophy and if life is fair. Beauty without pain. Thinking too much. Sometimes not thinking at all. The conversation was elastic and stretchy and polka dotted with drunken laughter. We took a walk to sober up and he drove me home from the parking ramp. The next morning, the headache failed to make it not worthwhile.

Wednesday night Jodi came. I took the bus out to meet her and we got lost coming back. It was the dreaded bus 194 that caused the drop off in the middle of no where, the idle conversation with smiley men whose breath smelled of warm beer, the 2 hour trek getting back to the apartment. We were both sleepy and giddy and talked a mile a minute. My dress pants were making me slide off the bus seat. I was so very happy to see her wonderful big grin.

The days she was here flew by. We ventured to parts of the city I had only heard about. Ballard. Freemont. Belltown. We roamed my neighborhood with eyes peeled for little places I’d like. We were in and out of bars and cafes. Shops and shoe stores. We got drunk on martinis and hopped in a cab at 3am to go to the grocery store. My apartment was barren. I hadn’t been able to find a near by or easy bus ride away place with more than a quarter of anything you’d need to whip up a dinner but drunk and resolute with money to spare Safeway was our destination. We pooled our collective and considerably lessened brain power into loading up a cart of “heavy things” and junk food. We ate ice cream drum sticks as we made fun of most everything, including each other. Again, the hangover was well worth the fun.

It was so nice to have her here. To help me find my way around. To rent a car with. To go to Vancouver with. To feel like I was on vacation with. To find the best breakfast place with. The best martini bar with. The best thrift store with. Saying good bye was pretty dang hard.

This airport. Every time I drop off a friend there are 15 minutes of wishing it were me with the ticket. A little stomach knot of worry or fear or just plain old stress comes and then - - - goes. The drive or bus ride back, the smell of the ocean, the sound of my neighborhood all start to work their magic and wiggle their way into me. They remind me of the possibilities. The good. The potential here. I think of my new friends. My apartment. The job that I’m coming to love. And then, it’s alright that it’s not me with the seat assignment and snack sized peanuts with my name on them. I think it’s then, I think it’s now, that the whole wow of being here starts to settle a little. Seattle starts to creep into me. It’s personality making itself known.

It’s late.

Monday is already here.

Jodi’s plane leaves in an hour.

She’s at the airport now. Magazines and pretzels in tow.

It’s bedtime for me.