24 April 2012

Hello, from Here.

Friends. I almost, almost, posted another recipe for you today, even though this is most certainly not a cooking blog (though I would forgive you for being confused with all the talk of lemon curd and sashimi tuna and frozen chocolate). As it so happens my head was completely, absolutely, entirely, out of sorts yesterday, and my hands needed something to do. Something involving butter and eggs. Perhaps some flour. Definitely the mini pans I picked up last week.

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.

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