Sleeping in Seattle

Or, we were.

We spent the weekend here, came up for the wedding of Amy, a former housemate of David's, and her partner Brenda. I had never met either of them before but I'd overheard Amy's voice on the phone when she called a couple of times to talk with David, and I knew I was going to like her just from the sound of her. And I do, very much. She's bright and funny and very warm, and very much contentedly in love. She and Brenda have their first little house, just big enough, just snug enough, with nooks and crannies and with a huge open back yard that they promise will soon be garden.

The wedding was beyond wonderful! Not for gorgeous gowns and massed flowers and a forest of candles in some ancient church (although I do have a particular lust for stained glass windows) but -- corny as it may sound -- for the love that was everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

They held the service in a park on Mercer Island, down in a little amphitheater. The families were there on both sides in multiple generations, along with piles of friends and neighbors. Amy's 86 year old grandmother came from Minneapolis, Brenda's sister and 13 year old niece came from Provo. Friends from old school days were there, as well as children from Amy's 2nd grade class, with their parents. Round-bellied mothers, small babies, children everywhere, young adults, old adults, older adults. Amy and Brenda's two cocker spaniels were in the wedding party, wearing fancy collars -- flowers for Olive and a bow tie for Max. Picnic blankets and picnics everywhere, Tonka trucks, cameras, a bicycle-built-for-two -- men. The flowers were all wildly assorted handfuls and bundles of garden flowers. There was a table mounded with cupcakes made by various friends instead of a big wedding cake, and more tables piled with gifts. I picked a place to sit down and was immediately engaged in conversation by a woman in back of me, and greeted by the two men in front of me, who noticed I was wearing a t-shirt from the Oregon Shakespeare festival and handed me a flyer for a local Shakespeare in the Park company.

One of Amy's students played "A Lover's Concerto" (aka Bach's Minuet in G major, sort of) on his student-size guitar. A small girl who had been somersaulting down the hill suddenly noticed her mother standing with Brenda and the attendants down front and began to howl when her father tied to restrain her from joining them. One of the women to the side of me said, "She always cries at weddings," and everyone laughed. Dad let go of her and she joined Mom.

The music was provided by boombox. David proudly (and yet humbly, being David) walked Amy down the 'aisle,' and then she danced part of the way to her partner. There were comments by an officiator, they made their vows to one another, they kissed, the music came back up and they danced, sweet and slow. Simple as that, in words, but so much more in emotions. Children played, friends and family mingled and intermingled. It was one of the warmest, nicest gatherings I've ever attended. I got a million pictures, many of the crowd; I cried all evening with the contagious joy.

On Sunday we went back to Amy and Brenda’s for the out-of-town-guests-brunch and then had a second brunch with friends who used to live in Berkeley and now live up here. They and everyone else assured us that while, yes, it rains in the winter, it’s not a good deal worse than San Francisco in winter. I like rain, myself. I mean, hey, it isn’t three feet of snow, and once retired, I won’t (I assume) HAVE TO go out anywhere if I don’t want to. David is subject to seasonal depression when the days are short or there are a lot of dark cloudy days, so we keep asking about that.

Today, our last day here, we’ve been to the Space Needle, rode to the top, had an elegant lunch in the revolving restaurant there. We were guided everywhere we went by a GPS device we rented along with our car. We named the device Patience because when we made a wrong turn, she simply said, “Recalculating,” paused, and got us turned back the right way. She even found us a wonderful seafood restaurant called The Crab Pot after the wedding. We’re going to miss Patience.

We like Seattle. It’s as green as anywhere I’ve ever been and it’s covered with forest. There’s water all around it and Mt. Ranier looming over it like a snow-capped Earth spirit. We’re looking for a place to retire (oh, in a few years, yes, but it’s fun to plan), and Seattle may be on the short-list.

Possibly.