I spent much of my last month in Washington saying goodbyes. There were a few people in there, sure, but mostly it was restaurants. I think I'll miss you most of all, Paseo.
I didn't really get sentimental until, on my way east, I stayed in Spokane for two days. Odd, that. I lived there only two years, half a lifetime ago, but they were two good years. It's where my life peaked, I now know, and it's where my life's second act both began and ended. I got weepy in a way Seattle simply could not inspire. I will forever miss the only place in the Northwest that ever truly felt like home.
Tonight I went to a free concert in a Pittsburgh park. I was invited to a tailgate, where we munched on brats while the Ohio Players sang their two hits and about 12 other songs no one present knew. I met a woman with a ponytail, sadly bleached blond, a crime against nature. I enjoyed chatting with her anyway. There was an unfamiliar ease to it. She told me all about her fears and hopes, and as often as not I was thinking "This happened to me maybe ten times in 22 years in Seattle, and it happened to me the very first time I poked my head out of my house here."
This isn't the reason for the move, but it's definitely symptomatic of it.
During that conversation, my phone buzzed. I glanced down. The text was from my friend Risa, 10 feet away.
"Ponytail," it said.
I showed it to Allie.
"She already knows all there is to know about you."