Just starting

Okay, I had to start this, start somewhere, so the words were words familiar and comforting of what I see.  And well, one does have to start somewhere - but not where I was going to start.  So I posted something else first, and set this one here.

Words have been written, held onto, remembered for just the right time to write them here, but the first words seemed so inappropriate.  The drive to and from Seattle.  Such a long drive, once fun, now more tedious, just want to get there.  It's planned, what I see, where to stop, how I plan this interesting drive.  Halfway, walk around the art store, see what I can bring home; then lunch, that great hamburger.  And the drive continues.  Just when I think I will make it, there it is, the one last pull, last stretch and it seems to take forever to get past there.  I dread that section, it makes the trip seem so much longer, twice as long to be sure.  But there it is and there's more.  Push, hard, push, oh why can't I be there, and of course there's traffic; slower now, over to the right, then to the left.  And just when you think you've made it, stopped.  And from there the rest seems to take FOREVER.  Just that last stretch and it seems like an age - can it really be that time doubles?

I mean no disrespect to the city, to the people, but that one place is torture and I dread having to go through.  Last night with friends, the words slipped out almost without a thought.  And the room got silent, then everyone laughed.   They all knew what I meant, had been there.  So when I said the words, they could not have been any sillier.  I simply said, "I wish they would just delete Tacoma."



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