To Travel...

Well, I'm off to Seattle, Washington in just a few hours. Going to walk the mile to Marta, take the train to the airport, and (hopefully...standby, donchaknow) get on a plane to the other side of the country.

I really can't wait to smell the air. You can tell the difference the moment you step off the plane. Here it's all pine and oak trees, but there...there it's all fir trees and the heartier evergreens that people draw inspiration on when making room and car fragrances. Not to say that the west coast smells like a new car. It's nothing at all like that. It's clear and fresh and green smelling, and the pacific ocean also smells nothing like our hot-blooded Atlantic. You can smell the cold coming off of it and imagine coasts in Alaska, Candada, and the Arctic where this same seawater has washed before.

The beaches, too, are different. No white sand glimmering beneath bikini bodies-- it's stones. Round, slippery stones in colors like charcoal and burnt umber and sienna and blood crimson. There's big warty seaweed that could be the shed skin of a troll or a goblin, if trolls or goblins ever had the inclination to shed their skin. And it's almost impossible to go to the beach and not see the teeny little crabs that live there in abundance, scuttling around, or get nearly knocked in the head by the pelicans and gulls that swarm around.

I'll enjoy watching the huge white ferries plough by through the water, in daylight and at night, from the nearness of the beach and from the huge, towering peak of the hill on which my great grandmother's house rests. She has a large bay window that overlooks hill, sound, and mountain range altogether. It's one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen in my life.

And I'm sure nothing has changed in the 7 years it's been since I was there...the little silver spoon collection will still be hanging on the wall, the card table will still serve as gaming platform and dining table, because the huge actual dining room is too cumbersome to bother with. I'm sure the kitchen will still smell like gramma-bread and good food, because after years of use you can't really get that smell out of the wood, the seams. The fire hydrant I used to perch on outside will still stand tall. Maybe I'll sit on it again for old time's sake. The rock garden with its chinese/japanese themed plants, the old water heater downstairs that used to scare me, the little cove of trees out back in the yard that always seemed so huge but is actually rather quaint, the hippo toy that I used to be small enough to use as a riding steed, the coal shute that is now a laundry shute to the basement where I used to sleep when visiting...all will still be there, my great grandmother presiding over all.

It'll be good to be back...if only for a short while...