Spiraling back to Seattle

I drove back into Seattle feeling like I was coming back into the rat race with people “leading lives of quiet desperation” (Thoreau). The traffic was atrocious, drivers aggressive, impatient, blowing their horns because the car in front of them didn’t spurt off immediately when the light turned green. My pace has changed as I’ve journeyed, the striving and pushing has been usurped by peace and being chill, so to get back “home” was a rude awakening. It doesn’t feel like home anymore, but it doesn’t help that all my belongings are in a storage unit and I’m sleeping on my daughter’s couch. I’m displaced, not sure where I belong. Is my car my only home? Eeek, what a thought! Continue reading

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