He does his research.
I like to get lost.
He likes history. I like coffee.
Neither of us want to miss anything. But we have different ideas of anything.
I can walk forever. His feet hurt.
He googles it. I ask a friend. Or the concierge. Or a random person on the street.
And the next day he can walk forever and my feet hurt.
I give all my money away to homeless people but want to splurge on cabs and desserts and trinkets.
We spent a long weekend in Seattle. No kids. Just us. We even tried to stay off our phones most of the time. And this is partly for our 10 year anniversary. But I also just love new places and getting away and exploring. I’d rather have plane tickets than jewelry any day. And I couldn't wait to get away.
We got in really late. 2 a.m. in my body's timezone. I’d had a rough week. I was short on sleep and food and had all kinds of things running through my head that I was eager to turn off for a few days. So was looking extra forward to sleeping in a big bed with no kids or dogs waking me up early. Relaxing. Big white hotel robes. Drinking plenty of coffee. People watching. And eating my way through the city. And my husband let me sleep in a little while he explored a few blocks. But when he came back, he was ready to hit the city. Museums and tours and not wanting to miss a thing.
I took my time getting dressed. And we wondered around for a bit, argued over what to do next and found something to eat. Discovered that apparently the homeless people in Seattle are often more friendly than people in customer service. We hit some Seattle highlights. Ate more. More highlights. And found our way back to the market early in the afternoon.
And one of my favorite things about big cities are street performers. Most of them aren’t that good. But some of them are. And the pike’s street market is prime real estate. So they switch out the person on the corner every hour or so. The first time we walked by was a guy with two cats wearing sweaters. And later I saw a guy playing a little piano. Each time they had drawn a small crowd. Even the cats in sweaters which I didn’t get at all. But now there was a huge crowd. And it didn’t take me long to figure out why. A skinny, dirty guy was playing guitar, the harmonica, a maraca, and shakers on his feet. All while hula hooping. I snapped pictures. And tossed dollars in his guitar case. Mesmerized. While he sang a strange combination of “I got a river of life” mixed in with a little Journey “Don’t stop believing”. And thought that I’ve paid good money to see people in theatres way less talented than him. And then he said my favorite line all trip.
(Even better than the waitress who asked where we were from saying we were obviously too nice to be from Seattle. Or all the people complaining about how hot it was when it hit 80 degrees. When we've had 100+ degree heat for almost 40 days straight.)
“Welcome to the moment. Thanks for sharing it with me.”
And for the first time all day I soaked in the moment. And tried to not stop for the rest of the trip. And something in me finally woke up. I took in the flowers, the fish, the produce and the crowds and was glad I wasn’t just lying in my hotel bed. For the first time all day I didn’t mind the crowds or the smells and suddenly I tried to take it all in. Every flower. Every fish. Every person stepping on my foot.
And then he spun his guitar on top of his head. And we went to stand in another line.
Emery Carl "Live" - Easy from Session 7 Media on Vimeo.
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