In the heart of the dot on a Sunday morning

It has been a different, though far too familiar, commute the last couple of mornings. For one thing, it has been a weekend commute so far, though I am certain it will bleed into this next week, too. For another, it is to downtown Seattle instead of my local community college.

Mom has been back in the hospital with heart problems, and it looks like today will see a third attempt to get a working stint installed. She is currently in the cath lab, so I am sitting in a bed-less hospital room awaiting her return.

The weather has been fussy. It manages to rain or seriously threaten rain during the morning and evening drive, then goes all clear and sunny while I'm sitting looking out of the hospital room window. I'd stick my tongue back out at the weather, but anyone looking across from any of the many little windows in the surrounding buildings might take it personally.

Driving in late Friday night, with the city lit up against the blackness of the night (does anyone else marvel at how most windows in most buildings remain lit up all night long?), I was struck by the notion that Seattle is a city you can really feel you are driving into. More than most large cities, there is a clear demarcation, especially coming in from the north on I-5. You are approaching the downtown, approaching, approaching, and then — wham — you are at the vertical wall of the city and now you are in the city.

This illusion is helped by the fact that almost as soon as you hit that sense of the city's vertical wall of perimeter the freeway slides you underneath the Convention Center and you really are suddenly both in and under the city.

By morning light this illusion is still present, though the vertical demarcation lines are softer against the grey/blue skies. No doubt Seattle's relatively small size, distinct and compact downtown core, and the fact that most of the surrounding sprawl is suburban, combine to create this impression. Seattle is not a city you fly over for 30 minutes before landing, it can't spread beyond the Sound on one side and the lake on the other. Seattle is much more like it's representative round dot on a large map than many other major cities.


Sitting here in the heart of that dot, blue skies glinting off the towering windows around me, sirens frequently screaming self-importantly past in the streets nine floors below, I am glad Seattle is as embraceable and accessible as it is. Scale portends familiarity, and comfort is often found in the familiar.

Speaking of comfort, the last few days' soundtrack has been Sigur Rós. Familiar, soothing, evocative, and not in the least demanding (I couldn't sing along even if I wanted to).

- Posted via Hermes.