One Reason Seattle is Home

Seattle is a big city. There are skyscrapers. Public transportation carts tons of residents from neighborhood to neighborhood each day. And you can find something to eat 24 hours a day — though not as conveniently as you can in larger cities like New York City or even Houston.

Still, Seattle is much larger than anywhere I have lived in the past. It's much larger than Lafayette, Louisiana, and definitely a metropolis compared to the tiny farming town of Minneola, Kansas, where I still have spent the most years of my life.

I never felt overwhelmed by Seattle's size. I always felt comfortable here. After almost two years in the city, I am convinced this is home. It just fits me.

That point was driven home even more this morning as I made the brisk walk from my neighborhood just up the hill from downtown to my office building. The 30-minute walk takes me through the shopping district in the heart of downtown, past at least 20 coffeeshops (imagine that) and right down 3rd Avenue.

It's a walk I usually make five times a week. I rarely stray more than a street or two away from my standard path — give or take a crosswalk detour to avoid waiting at the curb.

No matter which way I end up going, I always end up walking past a triangle-shaped flower shop that sits just a block from the Wells Fargo building where my office is located. While I never have been inside, I feel like the shop is part of my daily routine. Flowers and arrangements sit on carts out front, and two or three staff members always are busily working inside.

One of them, a bald man with an infectious smile, greets me with a wave almost every single weekday morning. I always peer inside as I walk by and look for him to give me a three-finger wave from behind the counter. If he's there, it never fails I get the wave and smile. I smile and wave back every time, as I did this morning.

It's a comfort to know he'll likely be there, like clockwork, to greet me. I'm not sure if he owns the shop, nor do I even know his name. The only time we've even shared a word with one another was when he was outside one morning and the wave was accompanied with a mutual "hello".

And that's what home feels like.