When it rains and storms, like in this instant -(the wind is literally howling through the gigantic pines) – It generates reminiscing. I remember growing up on Long Island where moisture is always (duh, it’s an island) available. Inclement weather patterns just make me introspective.
I also recall Berkeley, especially the time the girls and I visited their brother at Cal one January weekend. We walked and walked for miles in the frigid rain, one umbrella (my leopard one). They refused to use the less flashy, plain black umbrellas I packed. Instead, all three of my darlings insisted on just covering their heads with hoodie jackets (not the rainproof kind, the sweatshirt kind). I guess it’s just not cool anymore to stay dry.
I am reminded today of my most recent trip to Seattle to see my son and his girlfriend in their newly adopted city. Watching Top Chef Seattle (I believe it’s the 10th season) and this storm I am experiencing up here in the mountains is making me relive that blistery, chilly, wet and teary – eyed three days of pure ‘mommy so proud of you and happy for you’ bliss.
I arrived at Tacoma, Washington airport early, second flight out of John Wayne in Orange, CA. Lest no one tell you, you have to hop a subway in order to retrieve your luggage. After successfully getting all that out of the way, I waited outside in the nippy, cloudy grey, drizzled air for my son’s girlfriend, J. She scooped me up off the curbside waiting area almost as soon as I showed up and she whisked me off to my lodging accommodations.
I stayed in a wonderful suite at the Hampton Inn by their apartment in the quaint, residential Queen Anne neighborhood. Unpacking by fireside, the small but well-appointed and newly remodeled space had a full kitchen (with granite counters!), a full marbled bath, a comfortable living/sitting area with a chic, minimalist and ‘just turn it on with a switch/timer’ fireplace, a desk nook, an outdoor patio and a smartly laid out bedroom. Designed with contemporary appeal, the rooms successfully spoke of the so-called Seattle label, ‘hipster’. And using my AAA account, I congratulated myself, I scored a fantastic deal.
Back in the compact but roomy Toyota car, J drove us to meet up and pick M from outside his many-storied high building in the heart of Seattle’s downtown. Neither visitors nor moms are allowed to enter or tour the top-secret goings-on and last minute developments of this highly visible, edgy, technological, consumer paraphernalia computer driven company.
“Why, M, you shaved off your beard!” I commented. “You look like my young boy, again!” I blurted out, holding on to my seat belt in the backseat and leaning toward the front seat to at least touch and squeeze him on the shoulder with my gloved hand as he huddled in quickly and we steered away from the curb as the door latch closed shut.
“Yea, someone at work asked me if my parents were coming to town or something?” he explained and followed with, “Yup, my mom, I told them. Going to show her the town.”
Laughter, cheer and festive, amiable times were imminent, even in this inhospitable weather.