You know that feeling. The one where you find yourself in the right time and place, where it was destiny that you found yourself here and you were meant to be a part of the fabric of a location for this moment in time.
The warmth of the sun on my face, everything I owned on my back, Doc Marten combat boots on my feet, so worn they wear like a comforting hug, sweat on my brow. There are 43 blocks between the couch I was sleeping on and my job at the dog daycare, straight up Greenwood Avenue, with no deviation until I make a right onto 103rd. Forty-three blocks back to the sleep spot to walk my friend’s dogs, then back again for the evening shift.
Those blocks were my routine, a structure, a trail that I could walk with my eyes closed. Monday through Thursday I partook in an odyssey of trans-neighborhood travel. A trip that took 17 minutes by the number 5 bus, typically took me an hour on foot. Waiting for the lights to change would eat up a lot of time.
On the first morning leg, I would walk fast and keep my head down watching my boots hit the pavement. It'd still be fairly dark out and the only people out were running or letting their dogs relieve themselves after a long night in bed.
I was just running late.
I would head back south on Greenwood around 11, in my flow. Most days there would be a delivery driver parked in the median at 73rd unloading a produce order for Ken’s Market. The guy who sold “Real Change” is there again, we’d hug and say “hi” - I don’t know his name.
North again by 1 p.m. Blue Bird is open - a young father and daughter ate ice cream outside, the Lutheran church put out their food bank sign, Herkimer Coffee made the block smell like a double espresso.
At 7 p.m. the last of the neighbors had arrived home and tucked away for dinner. My stomach is aching from a lack of lunch. It’s time to walk home.
By the time I sluggishly make it back to Phinney Ridge, it’s dark and the streets are quiet again except for the roar of the number 5 bus and music drifting out of the doors of neighborhood haunts.
Slurping my instant ramen noodles, I listened to the distant sounds of the zoo. A final task before taking off my boots for the night.
***
Seattle in 2011-2012 was a coming-of-age moment in my life. A time when Greenwood and Phinney were sleepy neighborhoods and I was too naive to not be fearless. An era before the gas explosion took out Mr. Gyros on 85th and high-rise apartment buildings replaced the modest single-family homes of the Silent Generation.
The corner store where you could buy a Mickey’s and a “Triple Tuna” sandwich has been replaced by a small tree-less park with uncomfortably exposed metal tables.
The Park Pub was sold to a food blogger and turned into a Korean-Latin fusion spot that plays house music.
The Safeway is now a parking lot.
And if there’s any decency left in this world – Woodland Park shall forever remain.
Where: Phinney Ridge and Greenwood
Status: Evolving
Official website: https://phinneywood.com
Best way to get there: Drive - I-5 to the 85th Street exit. Turn left at Greenwood Ave.
Where to stay: a cozy Airbnb
Highlighted attractions: Check out this personalized map
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