|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
High resolution |
MARY LOU SANELLI goes al fresco So Much About Summer There is so much good about summer in Seattle, the season I love to love, that frankly, I don't know where to begin. So here's my best try: The first thing I did when I discovered Seattle on a balmy summer evening two decades ago was drive to Alki Beach. I could hardly believe daylight still beamed at nine p.m! So I headed for the sand to see the end of the day slip into sea, sat on the flattest log until the sun, no longer round, sank below the horizon.  In this city, on the rare occasion when heat lingers into dusk, one indisputable pleasure, and to my mind the greatest pleasure, is to eat dinner outside. Best when freshly mown grass swamps your toes and a cat sprawls on your heat-soaked deck. Tonight behind a friend's West Seattle bungalow, engulfed in the wings of a wicker armchair, I do just that.
And then I return to where there are plenty of reasons to give thanks for being on this earth: Alki Beach. On by far the summeriest night of the season, there is something else I love about the mild air: no wind. Which means a girl can walk on the beach and still have good hair, hair that behaves. It is a beautiful evening. A beautiful, beautiful evening. I could almost believe in God. Surely a Goddess.
Alki Beach has its rules: No cruising, no car stereos booming. I have mine: Wear slip-off mules for easy exit, never ever press a cell phone to my ear, pretend I'm still impressed by the size of a crow if a tourist needs me to be.
In no time I'm swept up by the beauty of this place. A night like this with a clear view of the city, the ferry to Bainbridge gliding serenely by, and so much sea in the distance makes the rest of everything seem promising. Never underestimate the influential power of sand beneath your feet.
 Why is it that whenever life picks me up like this, I must decide, right off, to stay lifted? My joy at once something to seize rather than savor before some worry moves in or worse, snowballs, causing me to wonder if one has failed at something even for a short span of time in the grand scheme of living, will failure-fears nip at her confidence forever?
Here is where I have to decide to let nothing sabotage the veil of satisfaction between me and the world just now. Not the third dog to nose my gender, or its amused owner crouching but not grabbing his stinky dog away. Or two teenagers curled around each other with such innocent need it makes my heart ache. Or the intoxicated couple trading obscene insults, beer cans wedged between their legs, rising with a push and shove but not before it looks as if the woman is about to kill someone. The man beside her, surely.
I look around for the intervention I am sure I'll find from the onlookers, but all I see is unconcern, reminding me that I can either read this couple's behavior as a monkey on my back, or else as relentless fortitude on the part of mother nature. It's all up to me.
And though the urge to run back to my car comes over me along with that blurry sense of alienation I feel whenever I see some meaningless violence filling the world, I wait, holding to my square of sand until the couple resorts to two drunken snorts of laughter and most people are gone.
Finally relishing the steady swish of waves lapping waves, the city pauses for a breath. One of those moments reverence is held within.
Nearly midnight, I finally stand, flinging sand from the seat of my pants. But only because I feel the beginnings of raw, crisp air off the sound, suspended between what is merely chilly to my skin and the downright cold that, even on the warmest night in our city, clearly comes next.
Sanelli's newest book is Small Talk (High Plains Press, 2008). Her next reading is at the UW's Cunningham Hall on Thursday, July 10 at 6 pm (open to the public).
|
Belltown Links
Belltown.org | Belltown Business Association | Bus Routes Olympic Sculpture Park | Belltown Restaurants | Condo Map Belltown Messenger RSS FEED | 
(subscribe here)
|
|
|
|
|
|
© 2008 Belltown Messenger