I saw Molly's Pistachio pound cake, and it looked so good. Wouldn't that just be wonderful with iced coffee on a spring afternoon on a blustery but sunny balcony? I think so, too. However, Sun Grocery, right down the street from me does not carry pistachios. Macadamias, yes, but I have my doubts on the ability of those to substitute. (Those or the wasabi flavored peas I ended up getting. Those are for snacking while drinking beers on the patio later, while bemoaning the dearth of pistachio pound cake.)
You see, and I know this isn't an Earth shattering revelation, but it's sometimes hard to be here when I want to be there. Yesterday, I didn't so much want to be back home as much as I felt like I needed to be home. I didn't need to be back in Seattle, the city that is my adult home, the home of sweet friends and where I married Amos. The home I'm craving is Colorado, where I was born, with the high desert and Rocky Mountains and friends I've known since I was six years old, when we rocked Minnie Mouse sweatshirts and mullets.
One of these friends, a soul friend, if you will, is going through a hard time. A doozy. Perhaps more for my heart then hers I want to be there. Not to fix the problem -- I know I can't -- or to say any brilliant words or wisdom -- I don't have any -- but simply to hold a hand and take a walk and just be, the kind of contact that silently says I'm here and I love you and you know that right?
That's very hard to do when you're here and not there.
It's such a funny concept, this here and there. My friend Tim put it rather well when he emailed the other day, when we were discussing Seattle and Japan and tigers in Thailand: The thing about being here is its neutral. That's not to say its bad but when you're here you're not "there." I commend you both for being "there," if that makes sense.
I think it does makes sense, and in the last 24 hours, I've also realized how quickly here and there change. There is where the action is; a place that is different, unknown. Here is a different beast. Here is sitting, waiting, the usual routine. Here is expected. Here is, as Tim says, neutral. At times they can flip rather quickly. My there just became a here.
Holy schmoley. This is a lot of adverbs, and it's first thing in the morning. I'm so sorry. Do you see where a slice of pistachio pound cake could have been just the clarity I needed?
Since that isn't in the cards today, nor is a last minute flight to small town Colorado, I'm making do with fresh pour-over coffee and roasted grapefruit rubbed in sugar and cinnamon. I'm going on a run, studying Japanese, soaking up the spring weather, and making the most of my time here which includes being patient with my heart, who seems so preoccupied with there.