sounded like I had insulted him. But what I truly saw in front of me was a large bumper sticker “How’s my driving, call 1-800-My-Drive.” I knew this was going to be a longer trip if I did not participate in whatever Willy was trying to do.
“Sorry… I see a truck, and cars. There are some trees and shrubs along the shoulder of the highway. I can even see an overpass. I can see water, most likely the lower part of the Puget Sound.”
“What do you hear?”
“The truck.” At that Willy made the sound of a deep sigh, I swear I could’ve heard his eyes roll back in his head. “I can hear cars. I can hear different types of music from the cars passing us. I can hear a jet somewhere and I think I can hear something that sounds like a train.”
“It is a train, it’s the 5:30 commuter train from Portland. Now what do you smell?”
“Car exhaust, and that strange cologne you’re wearing.”
“Hey, Sarah gave it to me.” I wanted to laugh at his expression but I didn’t.
“And I can smell the food in your picnic basket.”
“What do you feel?”
“I can feel a cool breeze blowing from the bay, the soft leather of the seats, and the smooth wood of the steering wheel.”
“Daniel, how do you feel?”
“I don’t know how to answer that question. Willy what’s this all about?”
“Answers.”
“Answers for what?”
“How you feel.” As I looked into his eyes I could see the concern he had for me.
“Willy sometimes I feel like I’m in a washing machine, going back and forth. Sometimes I don’t know how I’m feeling because it changes so fast. How is all of this supposed to help me?”
“That is a journey you need to take.” Then he rubbed his hands together for some special effects as he said.
“Go into the world my little grasshopper, you will find the answer.”
“So, what’s your real reason for this trip to Seattle? I know it wasn’t just to talk to me.”
With a shocked look on his face that I knew was a put on, “The coffee, Danny-Boy, the coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee!”
“I need to see an accountant, or to be more precise, I need to talk to him. He needs to know that taking money from the Helping Hands Foundation is unacceptable. He needs to see the error of his ways and where that will lead him.
“One of your… second chances?” I asked as Willy dug through his picnic basket for something else to eat. I just shook my head and stared at the truck in front of me.
We finally made it to the hotel and checked in. Usually when we travel like this, Willy and I share a large suite on one of the upper floors. Willy led us up to our room carrying his picnic basket and I was stuck carrying the rest of our luggage. Willy sat his picnic basket on the first bed where I placed the rest of his luggage. I was glad he always left the bed by the windows for me so I could watch the stars. With all the city lights I’d be lucky if I could see one or two, though the gesture was kind and thoughtful. I found a few to watch as I faded off to sleep after a long day of driving.
I awoke to what seemed like Willy making as much noise as he could. I put my pillow over my head trying to ignore him but it never seemed to work.
“You`re up, now we can have breakfast together.”
With all the noise Willy made in the bathroom, you would have thought he’d look different. But there he stood dark gray slacks, pale gray shirt and a strange looking tie that set off his red Converse shoes. One of Willy’s versions of office attire and as usual his hair was going in every direction.
Each day started the same with me entertaining Willy with breakfast before he went off on his mission. As the days continued so did my act until I could retreat alone to our suite where I sat in front of a large window. Outside were the city below and the blue water of the sound. I watched the ferryboats and sailboats sail by while surrounded by thoughts I couldn’t comprehend, much less understand. The sunny days became shadowed nights as I watched the lights come on one by one. Each evening my musings were brought to an end when I had to deal with the chaos named Willy.
I woke up to a quiet peaceful room unlike the mornings before. Willy had gotten an early start and given me some much needed peace. After five days in Seattle, I knew when Willy got back to the hotel we would be heading home.
I decided to walk down to Pike’s Market. It was an easy downhill walk. The closer I got to the marketplace, the more people surrounded me. It was a busy place with all its vendors and attractions. The main attraction was one fish company where a sale meant the fish was thrown back and forth between two men. I didn’t understand the attraction but it was fun watching the spectator’s reactions, the laughter and everyone wanting their photos taken. There were so many people, I felt like a pinball bouncing from person-to-person. Over and over I kept saying excuse me, but I don’t think they heard or noticed. I decided to walk around to the far side of the market where there were less people and I could get a glimpse of the water.
As I turned the corner I had to laugh to myself. I walked down what Willy calls Bubblegum Alley. The walls are plastered layer after layer with gum. Willy once thought that the investment of gumball machines strategically placed at the ends of the alley would be interesting. I’m glad he decided otherwise.
This walkway was nicer. There were fewer people and I could see the water. I could see Vancouver Island and the ferryboats filled with people. As I looked north I could see the Seattle Space Needle. I remembered the beautiful parks there and headed in that direction.
As I walked, I noticed fewer tourists. Soon people standing in doorways became people living in boxes with shopping carts nearby. I remembered earlier I had picked up a handful of gift cards from some of the fast food places. I started handing them out with another card that had a list of local shelters. I felt better knowing that I could give them a few hot meals and a safe place to sleep if they wanted it. I wished I could do more.
As I looked into their eyes, I could see these were people who felt lost, or forgotten, some even had their own demons to fight. I knew these feelings myself. Could they tell if their glass was half-full or half-empty? Or did they feel like me, a glass with only a few drops. I wish I knew. Sometimes I felt like a disappointment to my Father.
The landscape had changed as I reached the park surrounding the Seattle Space Needle. The shopping carts and cardboard houses were again replaced with tourists and vendors. I passed the Music Center and the Seattle Needle, heading toward my destination, the Freedom Fountain.
The fountain looked like a silver dome made in the bottom of a crater of mortar and stone. I was surrounded by huge speakers, which were mounted on top of towers. As the music played the magic began. The fountain looked as if it was dancing to whatever music that was being played. Water would cascade in different angles, at different moments; it looked as if it was alive.
“Mommy, hurry up.”
“James…
