I keep starting to write this entry, and then not finishing. I've already abandoned two different topics in the process.
Also, according to my Lit Crit professor, women tend to write more stream-of-consciousness than men do.
There are two roads that I always love to drive.
The First Road
Last weekend I went back to Seattle. On Saturday, we drove up to my nana's house, north of downtown, so we went across the viaduct. I drove that way Monday through Friday this summer. Driving North, you can look left and see across Puget Sound. The water shines silver if it's a gray day. Green and white ferries are sitting on the sea, headed to or from green islands partially hidden by fog. On the shore, there are the shipping yards. Orange cranes stand guard like metal dinosaurs over while red and blue crates that look like train cars. If you look to your right, you see Lady Starbucks peeking over the top edges of her tower.
Pardon my tangent...
Straight ahead is the city. Somewhere on the ground between those skyscrapers are sidewalks at steep inclines and store windows displaying long gowns or lingerie or handbags. There's a place somewhere--maybe by Pioneer Square--where Jordan and I went to look at art galleries one hot afternoon. The brick buildings looked like they were straight out of the opening of The Sting, and there were trees all along the streets. On those hot days where the sun shines from sky bluer than a crayon, the breeze comes off the ocean and you can smell the water. That salt/seaweed/sand-dollar/seafoam scent is something you can smell as you walk up the steps from our driveway when the tide is at a certain stage.
...and back to the road
If you're driving on the viaduct at sunset, the sky is all lavender and peach, pale tangerine and aqua blue. The water sparkles, and puddles of orange and yellow slide away from the low sun. The sun at sunset, edges so perfectly smooth, reminds me of a necklace my nana wore often when I was younger. The necklace had a single gold pendant in that same perfect circle as the sun, hanging from a gold chain.
The Second Road
This is turning into a 9th-grade creative writing assignment, so I'll move on. The other road I love to drive (and my dad can attest to this, because whenever we drive home from the airport, I turn left at 148th and 1st ave instead of getting on the Burien Freeway all the way to 160th) is 152nd through Old Burien. This is one you have to do at night. Does it remind me of Downtown Disney at night? Or is it the other way around? There are lights on every store and couples walking out from restaurants. It beautiful, and I've been there hundreds of times.
Here's where my mind goes from the idea of memorable roads to the idea of sacred space...
On Tuesday night in my Lit class on 20th Cen. novels dealing with the concept of belief, we talked about spiritual space. At one time, worship required a sacred space--that was very important to people. Now, however, there has been a shift toward a more freeform spirituality. People can have "spiritual experiences" anywhere. As one girl read in class, "For some people, looking at the moon can be a spiritual experience." Not gonna lie, I often pray when I'm looking at the night sky. I think the moon is the most beautiful think I've ever seen in nature; even though it varies in appearance, it's the same everywhere.
...and from the night sky to the weather...
Last night looked like a movie set on campus. The clouds were golden, and painted on in swirls. This morning felt like a scene in the movie. Walking onto West Campus, a thundercloud followed us, rumbling. The bell from the tower on West tolled through the heavy, hot air. This ominous setting culminated in a torrential downpour of warm rain. Raindrops as big as your fingertips made rivers in the parking lots so your flip-flops flicked splashes all the way up your legs. No chill from that rainstorm, as it transformed into 85 degrees and sunny within 30 minutes.
