I Am

This is a story from a couple of years ago that is also posted on my web site about life in Seattle sometimes.  Well unfortunately most of the time.  The original publish date is included.

I see you in this coffee shop each week.  You are there, but distant, aimlessly searching your iPod, periodically glancing at your phone.  Eye contact with a stranger emits a strained smile and a nod.  It is fleeting, as fear and distrust have imprisoned you in your own mind.  The stranger passes and I feel a sense of relief warming a chilly soul.

Your tires come to a slow halt on a rainy day for the gentle lady walking her wiener dog, shuffling across the street without bothering to check for traffic.  Her shawl is tucked tightly about her head as she struggles to lead her dog and manage the puddles.  Wonderment creeps into your brow as you ponder the meaning of the elderly woman’s life, why she is walking her dog in this miserable weather.  How often has she crossed the street like that with no expectation of being hit? You start tapping the dashboard impatiently for the women to move along, even though you have nowhere to be.  When she reaches the other side of the street safely, your car begins to move slowly forward through the intersection and I sense faint recognition in you, that just as quickly passes. You fail to recognize your neighbor of two years.

I hear the roar of the stadium, shaking me to my foundation.  Seeing you both at the game, I believe that you are old friends, sharing wondrous moments of times past, reliving the glory days of youth and the shared birth of your sons (what a coincidence, each having a son born on exactly the same day and year).  Drinks are bought, high fives exchanged.  On this crisp and clear Sunday afternoon, the realities of the world are forgotten and only football and friendship matter.  You both depart the stadium alone, you had never met before, and will never meet again.  An opportunity for friendship wasted.

I smell the fresh coconut bath soap lingering on your skin as you prepare for a date.  It must be special as gone are the torn jeans for a revealing sun dress, open at the neckline and bare shouldered, 2 dashes of perfume instead of the usual one.  Flipping your hair back, you smile and tell your roommate not to expect you back early.  I see you in bed, your chest heaving and breath heavy by 9:00 pm, but you are alone.  What I mistake for passion is tears.

I see everything in a wide panorama of our city and its society, my touch extends from the depths of the Puget Sound to the highest snow capped peak, the pungent aroma of my bars at closing time doesn’t escape me nor does the beauty of a fresh spring rain.  I sense all and nothing, but above all I sense it alone.  I am Seattle.

Gary R. Beebe Jr. - Seattle, WA (January 25th, 2011)