M once commented on my opening doors being the best part of our relationship. Not literally, but that a cross country road trip, moving to the city, or any spontaneous adventure being within reach with me.

Drinking coffee in the woods, listening to tales being told, I ponder the difference between these people and those on the west coast. My mother offers the explanation that this is a way of life and not just a hobby.

I tend to measure life since around when I left high school. On the eve of my 28th birthday, that’s about ten years. But I’ve been going to Jerry Pond camps for nearly 26 years then. That number strikes me in a way that makes Seattle feel awfully distant. Even with my appreciation for my connection to M, which feels like a diamond in the rough, this makes Seattle feel like an adventure in finding myself, what was already there.

There was a lot of talk of bachelor’s in the area. I realize in my fear of settling I never considered that I’ll simply end up alone.