Views of Now

I'd say the best adventures begin when you really and truly have no idea what you are getting yourselves into. Perhaps you aren't even sure how much you want to go on this adventure because you may or may not have something "better" to do that night. This was me last night. It's Friday night and I just finished my choir concert -- Kenneth basically brought his whole floor plus Katie, so that automatically made my night. It was suggested that we walk to Bhy Kracke Park afterwards, but of course I was skeptical and didn't see that as an ideal thing to do on a Friday night. But we go anyway.

Walking the usual route uphill to Queen Anne was quick and seamless; the night's air cool. As we ventured deeper into the neighborhoods of the area, more and more was the night revealing it's quiet beauty. The large, old houses perched on the hills of the streets held a nostalgic magic to them -- though I had never been to this area of Seattle before. Perhaps because it was Midnight and perhaps because not a soul was out. But these houses held desire for me -- it felt like we had traveled to a different time and we were just observing it in it's silent, nighttime sleep. It was a time that I longed for, in this faux-nostalgic fashion.

We walked down the middle of the roads, which were a lit by the street lamps. Somehow it was freeing in a way; we could do what we like in this witching hour. Wind chimes move with the breeze and the lanterns hanging from the porches of the beautiful homes send me a tinge of longing, yet remind me of a comforting time that has not yet happened. That night, the first of March showed a promise of a warm spring, for the air was pleasant and the breeze was refreshing.

When we reached Bhy Kracke, the enchantment of the night truly began. Tucked into a side street on one of the slumbering rows of houses hides the small park. It is a look-out that portrays the city of Seattle in a whole different perspective. It felt as though I was inside the city; that I was a part of it. Compared to Kerry Park, or other similar look-outs, I felt as though I was with Seattle, instead of looking upon it as if it were a post card. Sitting next to Kenneth, he said to me, "Open your eyes wide and take in all that you see of this city, then blink once. Seal it to your memory." I stretched my eyes as wide as I could for I wanted to eat up this view and this place. The myriad of flashing lights; the lightning-bolt cars swimming around the grids of the city; Lake Union -- alive as a body of water.

Isn't it crazy how often I forget that I live in Seattle? Seattle, Washington? So often do I get caught up in the bubble of my school's campus, or the bubble of the usual places of Fremont, or the bubble of the usual places of Queen Anne... Breaking away from this all and adventuring in the unadventured is what made this night so fantastic.

And I think it was a combination of the moonlit sky and the warm weather with grace notes of a cool breeze that made the magic feel so real last night. The late hours of the night, or perhaps it was the wee hours of the morning -- enchanting is the only description for this time. Who knew that so much life happens at one o'clock, two o'clock in the morning? Who knew that the dew would sparkle as it did and that the clouds would move through the dark night sky, texturing it as they cover and uncover the moon? Who knew? I know now.

(photo cred -- Katie Olson)