Here we are packing everything that we want to bring with us out of our Seattle life and into our Denver life. I didn’t think I’d be bringing much, and I still don’t think I will. This trip was always going to be a trip I made alone, and my life was most likely going to be lived alone. The summer has given me the gift of John Eric and Miette and Bowie, and even his mother Carolyn. Now this is a life that will be lived as a family; decisions made as a team. It holds so much more promise than it ever did before, and I was so happy even then that it doesn’t seem possible to be this blessed. I am thankful.
I am still suffering physically from the Southeast Asia trip; my stomach continues to revolt every few hours and I feel weak and want to lay down constantly. Our sleep schedule is still insane; we wake up at 5 or 6 am just to fall asleep exhausted at 8 pm. What else? Owl, our smallest little grey tabby kitten, needs a checkup at the vet for her broken arm that has been healing over the last month. A few days before the trip she decided to attempt flight out of her babysitter Jonathan’s 7th floor window (did she see a bird, perhaps?) and we are lucky - so very lucky - that she survived and that we located her again. I am calling her my “mirac-owl”. I have to say that was one of the worst moments of my life, knowing she wasn’t in his apartment and seeing the window screen ajar. Even I got dizzy from heights when I looked out to try to find her. If it wasn’t for Eric running up the several blocks from his office, I would have been helpless. He spoke to the building manager and found out that she had been taken to a vet somewhere in Seattle; every friend I have who could make phone calls from work was trying to locate her all at once, and we finally found her at the same emergency vet where I took a fallen squirrel on my first week in Seattle. (It is truly amazing how things come full circle.) When I saw my little kitten, bloody and swollen, I cried for her pain, and I cried for happiness that she was going to be okay. Her several weeks in a cast are finished (thanks, Carolyn) and she is on the mend and back to normal. She only favors that broken leg a bit.
Yesterday we spent the morning at Top Pot, which is a ritual I missed intensely while we were traveling. It seemed that it was the appropriate time to say goodbye to my second home, my little neighborhood coffee shop. That was where I found out that I was accepted to grad school so many months before. It was where I said goodbye to Dave for the last time and embarked on a life that didn’t include him. It was where I answered my emails, wrote out birthday and Christmas cards, met with friends and conducted blind dates. It was home, and it will always be part of me. But it is time to let it go, now. Denver will have new little haunts that we can call our own, I trust.
The movers come tomorrow or Friday. Wish us luck.

