Last week in Seattle I experienced a moment of revelation at the top of the Space Needle: my husband is my gypsy soul mate.
When we embarked on this trip to Seattle, a place we’ve been approximately a dozen times in the last four years, we knew we were interested in trying something new. We’d been to the famous Gum Wall:
trolled the aisles of Pikes Market:
and traveled via monorail:
It was time for new adventures. It was time to go to the top of the Space Needle:
The thing is I hadn’t really thought we’d go. Sometimes we plan things and they don’t come to fruition. And in all honesty, while I wanted to do something new and interesting, I have a longtime fear of heights. It all started when I was a kid and had climbed to the top of this jungle gym contraption. Once at the top, where a cousin of mine was already perched, she pushed me off. I came perilously close to landing face first in the dirt.
When my husband purchased tickets
I still wasn’t convinced we’d go. It can be trying to fit several activities into one five day visit to this magical city
when you have a few teenaged kids in tow and your husband has two days of training events to attend.
Getting to the Space Needle was also a challenge. It took a(nother) ride on the monorail with a mile or two walk to get there.
We arrived and made our way to the ticket booth, then around the building to the very long ramp that would eventually get us to our destination. I started to feel anxious.
Thankfully I know my limits and when we stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of the Space Needle, I announced to my husband, our daughter, and her friend that I would enjoy the view from inside. They didn’t mind and made their way through the throngs of people to the outside deck.
It was as they walked through that glass door that two things occurred to me.
- People don’t read posted signs. –The one on the door clearly stated no drinks or food were allowed on the deck. Yet several people walked through it in a state of oblivion with glasses of liquid in hand.
- My husband isn’t just my husband; he is my gypsy soul mate.
The authorities of the Space Needle cared little about their placard and the people who had no regard for it, as evidenced by their non-existent response to these rebellious patrons of this odd, though remarkable, establishment. Thus, I didn’t dwell on the thought either.
Instead, I took a deep breath and ventured out the door.
Although I didn’t take food or drink with me, I did take with me the staunch realization that my husband had worked hard to make this trip possible and for that I was willing to face my fear.
It’s a beautiful sight to behold at the top of the Space Needle. Especially when you’re up there with your gypsy soul mate.