Ferry to Island

Walking this afternoon in downtown Seattle, I have to say that I wished I worked downtown. Seattle streets are clean and bright and safe. It is such a safe town. At night, whole tracts of downtown close down. Friends who visit complain that they can't find a place to eat at night. This is half true. The restaurants are to be found if you know where to look.

On the ferry to Bainbridge Island, the air is warm inside. When someone comes in from the observation deck in front, a cool ribbon of air wafts in. At times like these, a house by the sea, by the ocean or on the beach seem so attractive. The air and the water feel benign, protected, calm.

This is the fifth month into the job search and I’m holding steady like this ship is holding steady on its route----the difference is that the ship’s destination is sure and known. My destination is open.

In this open landscape, I notice things I have not noticed before---like small details and people. Across from my bench, a young man reads from a book to his girlfriend. Their belongings are on my bench, on theirs, on the floor, in plastic bags. His young voice is un-tested by age or experience and she is languidly lying on the bench with her head in his lap. She looks into his eyes as he reads. As I look at them, I think this: To be young, un-worried, and to have summer waiting on the horizon…I wish I were in their place.