My first stop was Issaquah's Hillside Cemetery where my Grandma and Grandpa are laid to rest. Two years to the day my Grandma passed on my birthday. A few weeks before I had a dream premonition. It was just she and I in a dark, undefinable space blowing out candles together. Last year I was too ill and in the midst of a move to honor our day together in any way, one which commemorates my birth and her death. Morbid perhaps. My thought is more around this symbolizing the natural cycle of life. Just like a high school graduation being a commencement, a new beginning, I believe death is a rebirth into some other realm. I digress ...
After leaving an orange begonia between their graves (orange is my favorite color, and I prefer bringing potted flowers as they last longer), I paused for a few moments to take in the scenery. Sunlight broke through puffs of white clouds and tall cedars to illuminate the still dewy lawn. One blade of grass in particular became a small beacon with a sparkly dot of rainbow prism near its tip. Rows of rectangular stones dotted the rolling green hillside. Beyond the greenbelt of trees at the cemetery's eastern boundary stood the modern mid century wavy structure where I was turned off to Christianity as a child.
When I was in second grade, my mom encouraged me to attend a Wednesday afternoon children's church study with my neighbor Maureen, who lead this group. I recall having gone with her a few times. During my last time there, Maureen gave us an in-class art assignment. I was thrilled because I loved to draw and color. What eight or nine year old doesn't? We were instructed to draw God. Now that's quite the monumental, existential assignment.
I pondered this for a while before I began. Mind you, as a child (and often still) I have a way of immersing myself deep into my own realm. It's like putting blinders on and being able to focus on one thing wholeheartedly. This can be both a blessing and a curse. When it came to this assignment, I mindfully blocked out any undue outside influences and thought deeply before bringing the first colored marker tip to my blank, white piece of paper. A vision came to me and I began to draw with passion. I recall the joy it gave me to express this vision, to see it materialize before my eyes and at my hand.
When I was done, I had drawn a blue-green, flaming ball of energy. Now that my work was complete, I put my creative focus to rest. Then curiosity drew me to observe the room and watch as my classmates finished their drawings. On first glance, it was a usual scene of other children being creative and happily drawing away. Upon closer observation, everyone's drawings were homogenous; they all drew likenesses of Jesus.
Part two of this assignment was sharing our art with the class and talking about it. This didn't go well for me. I was OK with presenting something different. My classmates, even my neighbor, looked unfavorably upon me. In my mind's eye I had drawn God, not the biblical son of God. Every part of my being felt justice that I had taken the assignment to heart and executed it exactly as instructed. No matter, it became clear to me this place was not intended to be a forum for new ideas and creativity in this space had profound limitations. This was no place for me, so I didn't return.
I returned to my car and sent a text to my BFF, letting her know I was one my way back to the city if she wanted to meet for lunch. Even after rolling back into Seattle, I hadn't received a response. So I continued onto Whole Foods where I treated myself to brown rice and veggies along with a slice of organic apple pie al fresco. I washed this down with fresh pressed organic apple ginger juice.
It was nearing one o'clock, and I wanted to get in some restorative spa time. So I checked into Banya 5 for an indulgent afternoon of warm and hot tub soaks, a focus massage, nap time and a bit more soaking. What a treat!
Next stop Aveda where I picked up some free goodies; hand cream and my birthday fragrance. Since BFF was staying with us, I thought these would be great little gifts for her. After I got the goods, I thought I would sit in Westlake Park and have a snack. I had only crossed the street when I realized Downtown was not at all where I wanted to relax and unwind. So many people tromping about, tall buildings blocking out sunlight. It was all wrong. So I turned back and headed toward home where I was instructed to be at 5:30 p.m. sharp.
I love being by the water, so I went to our community beach park called The Cove. I sat on a pile of driftwood, ate my apple, some roasted almonds and a snack bar while taking in the calmness of the Puget Sound waters and the majesty of the Olympic Mountains to the west. I also took a call from my mom, who had been trying to reach me throughout the day. She thanked me for taking flowers to my grandparents. I hate when she does this. To me it's like she's asked me to do something she hasn't asked me to do, which diminishes my own act of remembrance for myself (yes I am being selfish). It just bugs. Could she not just think that to herself and simply say, oh that's nice? Whatever.
It's getting close to 5:30 p.m., so I send a text to my hubby and my BFF asking if I should leave downtown now and make my way home through traffic. I was at that point not even a mile from home. When I arrived neither were there, which threw me off. I was expecting they would both be there since they had explicitly instructed me to be there at the specified time. No matter, I took Millie out to do her business. I took my wet spa articles to out master bath to hang and dry. As I entered the room, both of our tuxedos were laid out on the end of the bed. What's this, I thought.
A few minutes later BFF arrived. She prompted me to get ready because we had to leave shortly. She seemed concerned my husband wasn't home yet. I wasn't sure if this was part of their plan.
I began to put on my tuxedo when my husband pulled up in a rush. He hurried to get dressed and then the three of us headed out the door, only to be greeted by the firefighter next door and his flavor of the week.
“Woah, look at you three!” He exclaimed. “You’re raising our property values.”
My husband politely explained we were headed to a party for my birthday. And away we flew into Downtown Seattle.
We had a lovely dinner at the Met. We were incredibly over dressed. Or should I clarify, Seattleites are notoriously under dressed. In fact, on our way out one fellow was at the host stand in pajama pants, asking if he could eat in the bar. He must reside downtown, which he must also consider his own, personal living room.
After dinner we drove just a few blocks down Second Avenue. We parked in front of the Smith Tower and then entered the building. The doorman asked if we were there for the event in the Chinese Room. “Oh no he didn’t,” I thought to myself.
Appropriately enough an Asian woman manned the very art deco caged elevator, which whisked us up to the top of the Smith Tower. The door to the elevator is just a brass gate, so you can watch as you ascend floor by floor upward. When the gate opened, I was greeted by the most beautifully decorated room, completely aglow with votives, and my dearest group of friends. Everyone was dressed to the nines; everyone looked so beautiful! It’s almost what I imagine Heaven to look like, sans a floor made of clouds. It was an enormous amount to take in; complete sensory overload. As a sidebar, my incredible, loving husband had recalled me once mentioning how wonderful it would be to have an event in the Chinese Room someday.
The party was fully catered. People dressed head to toe in black passed gorgeous little Asianesque hors d’oeuvres and served spirits. At the top of the drink menu was my Grandma’s old standby, vodka tonic, which was called “The Peggy.” A retro smorgasbord of ‘80s electronic music compiled by my BFF from senior year in high school. The tables were all dressed in white linens with custom printed table cloths that matched the Chinese theme of the room. Each table was surrounded by gold chairs, topped with white candles in glass votives and a gorgeous bouquet; fantasy (red) roses, cinnamon (peach) roses, white freesia, pink cherry blossom, mini viburnum (chartreuse) and amaranthus.
It was an evening full of hugs, connections, reconnections and spectacular city views. I walked around the observation deck twice. I don’t recall having been seated for a moment, except when I posed for a couple photos in the wishing chair, this large, hand-carved wooden thrown in the middle of the west side of the room. It was a gift to Mr. Smith from the last empress of China. Yes, of course I made a wish in it.
My current BFF and husband called a toast. They of course thanked everyone for coming, and my husband elaborated on why this occasion was extra special for the health challenges we’ve been struggling with for a couple years now.
When I was asked to say a few words, I was still entirely overwhelmed. I recall mentioning how over the moon I was about the party. I had to touch on the health subject since it was broached. I recall having mentioned that sometimes life’s circumstances force one to slow down and reexamine every aspect of one’s life, who they love, how they spend their time, etc. For this reason I have been very fortunate, as difficult as this path has been. I am still grateful for it.
When it was time to blow out the candles, people offered assistance. Leave it to my husband and BFF to fully equip an enormous and beautifully decorated cake (to perfectly match the party theme) with 40 gold candles (which my BFF had to scour San Francisco for). While I still struggle at times with shortness of breath, I was more than happy to huff and puff until all the candles went out. It did take at least a few breaths. And I made another wish.
We lined the large corner booth just off the dance floor and DJ booth. From the modern, concrete architectural features it was clear we had gone underground. It might have taken a big name designer to come up with this whole bomb shelter motif. It was fabulous.
The electronic music blared, and our conversations carried on. In fact, I hadn’t recalled feeling so connected with my senior year BFF as I had that night, and he seemed to connect pretty well with my BFF. After a couple buckets of champagne and a couple champagne flute breaks, it was time to bring the evening to a close. As it is said, it's not a party until something gets broken. Check.
We headed for home around 2:00 a.m. If this is 40, I have a grand decade ahead. Bring it on!
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