A Question of Perspective
My house in Seattle is a mansion. My living room here is as big as my whole apartment in Milan. All of this space for one person?
Really, it’s just a two-bedroom, 1950s rambler with a basement and a great yard. But after almost a year in Milan, my house seems enormous. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I had an American mega-mansion.
I arrived in Seattle two days ago for a couple of weeks seeing family, friends and clients. The days have been sunny, but cool, starting at 40 degrees in the mornings; it feels brisk after 77 degrees and humid.
It’s incredibly quiet, the only noise coming from the chorus of robins singing throughout the neighborhood. A sunny, still afternoon spent sitting on the front porch looking out to the water is a balm to my soul. What a treasure.
It’s good to be home, and I look forward to my final return at the end of July. But it won’t be without some wistfulness about the people and flavors I’ll be leaving behind.