We are on our way to Seattle for the weekend.  I haven't been in many weeks.  Each time I go there is a shifting, a speeding up.  I start slowly on the 25 mph streets, then wind through the farms on Route 19 at just over fifty.  The highway that leads to Hood Canal is as full-speed as traffic will allow, but still only one lane each way.  Not until we get off the ferry and onto I-5 do I feel that sense of too much, too many, too fast.  I laugh at myself, thinking how far my inner life has slowed down.  Here in PT, I walk on the streets and only occasionally have to move aside for a car.   There, everything feels like an assault on my senses.  You drive everywhere, and everywhere you drive there are a million things that want your attention.   After awhile, I get my city legs back and it just feels normal.  But at first it is jarring, vulgar, invasive.  All the signs, businesses, driveways, other cars, big cars, SUV's, and the ever-hated Hummers.  There is far less pretense in my new town. 

Hijo has enrolled in Little League, our first experience with team sports.  They got their uniforms yesterday and he was very excited, pointing out to me the official "Little League" patch on the arm of his shirt.  I chat with the other parents as we watch our sons out on the field.  I feel less shy there than I often do, probably because we are brought together for the kids and not ourselves.  Today is the jamboree, the official start of the season.  It is raining, of course. 

This is why I came here, to change not just the scenery, but the very fabric of our lives--to weave ourselves into something durable and beautiful and satisfying.   We've only just started, we are still choosing the colors of the yarn and setting up the loom, but there is something solid and real there that we can feel, running our fingers softly over it.

Comments

[M]

I know just how that is...I lived in Coupeville on Whidbey Island for 2 years, and drove back to Seattle every other weekend. I miss the quiet at night and the deer and eagles and walks along Ebey Prairie ...and the hop on the ferry to Port Townsend..it's a little too choppy for me on that ferry in the winter though..a little scary..!

[Nancy D]

Your last paragraph says so beautifully what we want in our move to Mexico this fall...you really are an amazing writer.

BUT, wow it is hard to read your blog sometimes with the font you've chosen on a black background.

But it's still worth it, thank you!