If you are very quiet today in Seattle, you can hear the low, fumbling sound of people rooting around in their junk drawers for the sunglasses they haven’t worn in months. As their fingers wrap around the plastic frames, they all mutter, “Thank God. I really didn’t want to buy another pair.”
I went for a sunglasses-free walk in West Seattle and thought about what I should be writing. I was just asked to write a poem for the April issue of Seattle Magazine on the subject of food. I have one week to write this poem and currently a few hazy ideas. Nothing crystallized during my walk except for a profound thankfulness for the place I live.
I live in a 100-year-old schoolhouse that has been converted into artist live/work spaces. It is called Youngstown Cultural Arts Center/Cooper School. Looking up at the building from across the street in the park, I was amazed by the pride and symmetry of the brick facade and surprised to see my own four windows looking back at me, so stately and alert. This space holds such wonder for me. When I feel stumped for a poem or story, sometimes I go sit in the hallway with the lockers and pretend I am someone else.
I hope your day is full of as much gratitude and sunshine.