It comes up.

Seattle.  It keeps coming up in the book I’m reading.

It reminds me of that plan we had to move to Vancouver.  We thought we’d take weekend trips to a lot of cities once we made Vancouver home base.  There was San Francisco, Jasper, Banff, Whistler.  There was Lake Louise.  There was Calgary, Victoria, Portland, Salt Lake City.  There was Seattle.  Maybe some other time.

Then I go to sleep and I dream about Gage Park and a sunny day when we were only thinking about moving out of the city.  At the end of her lime green leash, the sun makes Chloe’s fur such a bright white it hurts to look at her.  It’s a relief to look away from her into the trees, at the grass.  We are walking and we are imagining what it could be like here and the dream is such a stunning recreation of that day that it seems like that life is still rolling out in front of me.

This is when I wake up, throw off my duvet and dramatically pop bolt upright.  The old cat opens only one eye and regards me. "What now?" the eye says.  So I think about … NOW … for a minute.  I don’t want to go back.

I read some more about the Space Needle in Seattle.  It’s just a part of a book, is all.

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