Wish you were here

One day when I've got Seattle in our rearview mirror, I will not think of my time here as lonely. But the truth is, some days are. Seattle's not to blame; there's been moments or stretches of loneliness in every city, at every age. There's something about cold winter days, being stuck inside, living on a budget, that makes days seem a little long. All I want to do is drink coffee and watch movies, but Edie does not think that's a good way to spend our day.

Loneliness can lead to productivity, or it can lead to wasting time on the internet, or to cleaning house, or cooking, or writing that email I've been meaning to write. Some days I wish I lived near my mom or sister or Michelle. Most of my friends I make plans with ahead of time. I don't just swing by their house and watch t.v. We plan events. With my family ladies, I could drop by unannounced with my baby, sit at the kitchen table talking and drinking coffee, chopping carrots to make chicken pot pie for dinner. That is what I want to do today.

This afternoon Edie and I sat at our front window, watching people walk by and crows pick around our yard. Edie talked to the birds and made confetti out of Kleenex. Dave will be home soon, and I might convince him to treat me to a lamb burger and glass of red wine at Eva. And I rented Stand by Me. Sounds like a suitable, wintery Saturday night date.