A Day in Seattle
I got up early this morning and stretched out. I’m staying at a place closer to Seattle. You walk down a hill and you’re downtown. The place I was stretching out at is called Freeway Park. It’s next to the Convention Center. It’s a nice place. People eat lunch and walk their dogs there in the daytime. A few people jogging and some homeless guys were surprised to see me.
When you walk through there in the daytime there are lots of birds and squirrels. They probably try to get whoever is eating lunch there to feed them. In the early morning hours there were rats running around the planter boxes.
A guy I was playing chess with asked me about my father a few days ago. I told him he was never around when I was a kid. When he wouldn’t stop asking me questions I told him I don’t know my father and don’t care about him.
When he asked me what my last name was I asked him, “What do you care?” Maybe he thinks I don’t know who my family is. I meet guys from my father’s side of the family every now and then. They’re always polite.
I don’t know what kind of issues my mom had with the man or why they went their separate ways when I was too young to remember him. It really doesn’t matter. My mom was married to a nice guy when I was a kid. His family is a nice Mexican family and they adopted me.
My mom’s side of the family is also huge. There was always an aunt, uncle, or some older cousin watching out after me when I was growing up. I never missed not knowing my father or his side of the family because I never lacked for anything.
When people use the term “like family” I get confused. Do they think I’m some orphan or don’t know who raised me?
I’ve been coming to Starbucks in the morning for a few months. It’s a nice place to read and draw. It surprises me that so many people talk about their personal lives in a public place. They also talk about people who aren’t even there they hang out with. That’s something you didn’t do when I was growing up. I know a lot about some people and don’t even know their names, just their faces.