Right Here

Good afternoon, universe.

It's been a good-busy kind of day. Coffee. Grocery shopping. Chores. Plus a visit to the “pocket beach” near the sculpture park to check out the sea creatures at low tide. I saw a vast army of sea snails, a bunch of ochre sea stars, red burrowing sea cucumbers, a painted anemone, and a teeny crab no bigger than my thumbnail. A few weeks ago I picked up a local tide calendar from Metzger's Maps at Pike Place. It shows the daily tides as a blue wave running across the calendar square. When the blue wave dips, there are things to see!

I'm feeling very grounded in home lately. I want to know and understand all the wildlife that live around me. I want to buy bread at the little shop along the waterfront, and pick strawberries when the season starts, and walk around Lake Union when the sun comes out. I have a library book ready to pick up, and tickets for Furiosa at our neighborhood movie theater. This morning we walked to Uwajimaya because they have the best vegetables, don't you know. Everything I need is right here, accessible by foot or bike or bus. Tourists have returned like migratory birds, flapping their maps open, pointing and squawking, forming long lines at their traditional feeding grounds: the “first” Starbucks, Piroshky Piroshky, and of course, Biscuit Bitch. Cruise ships rest fat and heavy nearby, their announcements carried on the breeze, always preceded with the soft pim pon of their public address system.

Life is a mellow blur. Writing, eating, walking, sewing, reading, volunteering, napping, hanging out. How lucky I'll be if summer goes onward just like this. I don't need anything else, universe. If it's okay with you, I'll stay right here.