Home Sweet Home

I had a lovely weekend visit in Arizona. Taking full advantage of sunny skies and temperatures in the mid 80s slash 20s, I wandered around town and lounged by the pool for hours on end.

But today, on Monday morning, my little adventure was done. So I climbed on a jet plane and flew away.

It was a lovely flight. I had the pleasure of sitting in a window seat, number 22F. Window seats are the best. I spent my three airborne hours intermittently playing with a book called Wreck This Journal and  watching the scenery unfold beneath me. Most of the land was brown and somewhat mundane, but we did cross right over the top of the Grand Canyon and that was spectacular beyond words.

As we neared our destination in the Pacific Northwest, the clouds thickened. During our descent, my window seat proved useless as the view was nothing but a white mist. The landing gear was down before I finally got a peek at the scenery, just in time to see that we were flying right over the top of downtown Seattle and the sports parks just to the south. I was too stunned to grab my camera, and simply drank it in with my eyes.

But as we landed, I couldn't help but compare the sights of Seattle to the sunny desert paradise I had enjoyed just a few hours back. My hometown really lived up to its stereotypical image today; think of the most grey, drippy, overcast day you have ever experienced, and that would probably be just what it was like when I touched down. See for yourself.

If you are not from Seattle, or a similarly soggy place, you may find it depressing to leave the warm sunshine and head into this foggy mess.

I understand that. I really do. And a tiny part of me does yearn for that warm sun.

But here's the thing. This wet, grey, puddle of a city is my home sweet home, and for better or for worse, I am very glad to be back.