Seattle

It ends and it begins in the coffee shop on Pike Street.

In October I retreated there, seeking refuge from a late night that was pouring cold rain and solace for a heart that was sad from saying goodbye, comfort in the old wood floors and low wood ceiling and creaky wood tables and sturdy wood chairs. Last week I was there again, basking in the warmth from the heater and the cup while watching the drizzle through the windows, waiting this time with my heart pounding anticipating saying hello. We stopped in again before I left for home, this time together.

All things endure.