Sunday, August 17, 2008

Sunday morning.

Today promises to be hot, 102 degrees. We're going to Sand Point, Idaho for the Spokane Symphony's outdoor concert. We'll sit outside in our lawn chairs and hear Rachel and Nick play under the pine trees, hoping for a cooling breeze.

Already, I'm starting to let go of Spokane. I won't miss its bumpety arterials and intense city driving. I will miss blue sky, hills, and a sense of peace that comes from living in a second floor South Hill apartment that seems to float above the city. Each night, lights dot the horizon, and I can hear the faint wail of police sirens. And I will miss Rachel and Nick, being able to see them so easily; at any time, they're just a phone call away.

What's calling us south to Vancouver WA? I'm no longer sure. We'll have a lovely apartment just ten minutes away from Portland, and an hour and a half from Corvallis, closer to friends all down the Willamette Valley and inland, Redmond and Salem. We can be driving along the Columbia Gorge within minutes, and, finally, we'll have access to a good library. Allen's busy with plans for Brazil and Argentina. The itinerary is shaping up nicely, and we'll be back on the road for real on December 31, the turn of the new year. The traveller in me wants to go. The mother in me wants to stay.

1 comment:

pril said...

there is a plaque somewhere in Sand Point that they made for my uncle. Someday, I'll get up there and see it. He was a barber there for years and years.