Two Walks, One Post

Even when the weather is bad, my walk to work is good. The rhododendrons just clusters of color, japanese maples dripping in the steady rain, a robin sitting on top of a light pole. In the coffee shop where I am still a stranger, there was a girl crying. That silent kind of crying, just wiping tears from beneath her eyes, pressing her lips together, little tremor in the chin. The woman with her was saying "You know you're his favorite." and something about the whole scene made you think it was going to be okay.

Or maybe that's just what I wanted to think. It is my tendency to steer my thoughts that way, to pay more attention to the Irish Setter puppy biting the leash as his owner ran through rain, the dog's every step a wag. The guy who is living out of his car was the only one parked on that little street I walk through this morning, and what I thought of was how when I saw him the other day, he was talking to a cop who was giving him advice on where he could park without getting into trouble. At Seattle Center, they were unloading pallets of chairs, setting up tents andbuilding particle board boxes to protect the smaller trees from the crowds for Folklife. On the corner near the statue of Chief Sealth there was a girl in a trench coat all speckled with gutter water, so thoroughly that from across the street it looked like the coat was leopard print. There is always something to see.

At Dillon Beach this weekend, we walked in silence for a long time. A lot of fun had been had, summer dresses worn, fruity cocktails consumed, spiced cauliflower with capers nibbled, everything you would expect. We had talked about everything under the sun, and some things that aren't. I don't know what Tami and Pam were thinking about. Taylor and Fenton were thinking about birds, and surf, and the next dog up ahead. I was thinking about writing, and silence and photos, and about how my life without Pam would have included a lot less beach walks.