An Open Letter To Seattle, Returning After So Many Years
Reminiscing on my childhood in Seattle now as an adult.
Dear Seattle,
It's been awhile—five years, in fact. Before that even longer, having spent 10 years apart since I was forced to leave.
To begin, it hasn't been you, it's been me.
I said I didn't come back because of money. I said I didn't come back because I had no time. But really, I didn't come back because I didn't want to.
Ever since I left when I was 10, I've missed you. I missed the people, the art, the nature, the eccentricities, and even the weather, too. As we bounced around from place to place, you were always in the back of my mind, and I was always so sure I'd come back to you as soon as I could. For me that meant college, then college rolled around, and I didn't.
I thought that I would. I thought I would be strong enough to leave my family and go back to the one place I really felt like I fit in. I thought I could make that sacrifice for me to feel truly fulfilled again.
I couldn't.
Then, I told myself I would come back after I left college. "It's too soon," I thought, "I'm not ready to be that far from them."
But here we are, at the end of college, and I'm still not coming back.
As I said, it really is not you. You were wonderful. For so many years, you were a beacon of hope for the miserable girl who felt like she'd been snatched from the one place she really belonged.
While I still feel like that from time to time, coming back to you for a short while confirms what I already suspected—its been too much time, and we're too different now.
In a perfect world, I'd be yours.
You've been corrupted by the very people who I thought were taken away from me prematurely, so many years ago. Come to find out, I needed to be taken away from them to realize who I am. That family is only mine though blood, not because they know and love the real me.
Now, I don't see a way back to you that doesn't involve hurting my Texas family and corrupting myself in the process. You've been ruined by the people who never really wanted the best for me, but wanted their interpretation of that, willing to accept nothing more.
I still love your rocky shorelines, shy city skyline and how you've created a safe haven beneath your moody overcast for all of the other kiddos who felt like they didn't have a place they fit either, but you'll just never be able to give me that the way you can for so many others.
Lord knows I wish that wasn't true, and I hope that one day we'll find our way back to each other.
But for now, I'm sorry, I'll miss you, and thank you for setting the foundation for who I was to become.
