hill

I was walking across Capitol Hill thinking about all of changes to the city and feeling almost seasick with sorrow when the phone rang. It was Jeffrey, and he said “I see you.”

Looking up, I realized he was waving from the window of an apartment building. He came down and we stood on the sidewalk talking for awhile, about his little son, and his job, and mutual friends.

I explained I was still sorting out legal matters related to my mother’s death, and apologized for not getting in touch. He said he understood, and that I could count on him to help, if I needed anything.

We probably only talked for five minutes but his expression of genuine concern reminded me that although my mother is gone, there are scores of people in the area I care about, and who care for me. My grief over the loss of a parent and my concerns about rampant urban development are legitimate. But the issues should not be allowed to mingle, and neither is a reason to avoid my friends.

It also struck me that although the skyline is different, the Puget Sound remains the same. People come and go but the water doesn’t care.

This is where I’m from, and that will never change.

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