Dear Seattle,
I’ve lived within your city limits for so long now that as I prepare to move away from you for the first time in my life, I’m flooded with thoughts of all the things I’m going to miss. I’ve driven down your streets the last few days and every passing building, park, and intersection brings back a memory and reminds me that this place is utterly unique, beautiful, and filled with people who, in spite of their idiosyncrasies and passive aggressive tendencies, are in fact *my* people. I am homesick before I’ve even left.
You are the backdrop where all important moments in my life have played out, from losing my innocence to learning to stand on my own and weather every challenge with confidence instead of the anger of a spoiled child. From quiet mornings when the Space Needle would disappear from the skyline entirely in a thick fog to raucous nights on Capitol Hill started innocently with sandwiches at the Honey Hole, I’ve always appreciated your subtle poetry and how you inspire the people who live here without even trying.
Sure, we haven’t always gotten along. I’ve cursed your public transit and how your drivers camp out in the passing lane driving 55. I may have even, on occasion, cursed those gray skies in the dregs of winter when even I, the true native, questioned if the sun would ever reappear. Still, from my living room in Lower Queen Anne as I watched the elevator go up and down and up and down, I’ve watched you woo newcomers with the breathtaking view from atop the Space Needle. If only they knew that view was only one of so many others out there to appreciate…
It was here that I learned to appreciate the nature of true friendship (and friendship that later turned out to be not so true or lasting) over beers and shuffleboard at Big Time Brewery. I learned humility from every uneven sidewalk and moss-covered stair you threw in my path. And you inspired me with more live music than I can even begin to describe, from the old Croc, and dare I say as far back as DV8. You even taught me to play nice with others as I learned to share Death Cab and Modest Mouse and my other favorite indie bands with the rest of the world. You baptized me by fire when I needed it, from live television to parallel parking in a tiny space while someone was waiting behind me. You even taught me how to hold my liquor with Earl’s Long Island Ice Tea.
I keep thinking how I’ve been a fool to take you for granted, the impeccable films at SIFF, amazing bands at Bumbershoot, and inexplicable delight of Archie McPhee’s. If only I knew I would leave someday, I would’ve paid more attention.
You’ve nourished me with Red Mill Burgers and Nasai Teriyaki and the greatest beer selection a girl could ask for. You indulged me with incomparable Yakima wines and Tom Douglas’ coconut cream pie, not to mention many a brunch at Dish and the 5 Spot. You even nourished my soul with late summer evenings at Golden Gardens and Greenlake and potlucks at the Interbay p-patch. You’ve spoiled me with Easy Street Records and KEXP and I don’t know how I could’ve ever been so dense as to take them for granted. A website just isn’t the same, you know?
My first real job, my first apartment—everything important that’s ever happened to me, it all happened here and that is why you will always be an inextricable part of me; the very core of who I am. I’m a Seattle girl, a Husky alum, and someone who will always love this city no matter how much it changes. When people ask me, “So does it really rain in Seattle all the time?” I will tell them yes, because god knows the last thing this town needs is more Californians moving here. It’s my way of showing you I still love you even though I’m far away.
I know I have many more firsts ahead of me and it’s necessary to try new things, but I take with me the best parts of this town, this amazing place where I’ve become the person I’ve always wanted to be.
Your face will change and I know that when I come back and the Gates Foundation is done, not to mention all the nonsense construction in SLU, you will look so different than when I left you. And I’ll look different, too–mostly because Bash at Vain won’t be lending his mad scissor skills to my locks anymore, but I have the highest of hopes that you will grow into the tremendous city I’ve always know you capable of being. I know someday all the progressive ideas will become reality.
It is so hard to leave you, Seattle. You are home to me. You are home to my ex-boyfriends and childhood friends and my family, and I hope you take good care of them while I’m away. And I hope they take really good care of you, too. You deserve it.
