After approximately 84 years on the market, my house has finally sold and will close in just a few days. It feels wonderful to finally slam the cover shut on that chapter of my life. The amazing part is, I will get a good chunk of change from the sale. Enough to do something substantial. I could buy a car. I could put a downpayment on another house. I could go crazy at Barnes and Noble.

But what I really want, more than anything else, is to travel. My short stay at the hostel in Hawaii made me realize how much of this world I have yet to see. I met people from everywhere, and each one of them gave me a little glimpse into the beautiful life they live far, far away from here. It wasn’t just hearing about the landscape or the language of wherever they were coming from, it was getting to know them, who they really were, and experiencing a small piece of the culture that they brought with them. That is what I want. I want to go somewhere and immerse myself in that place for however long I can. I want to know each place intimately. I want to explore every new place as you would a lover’s body, becoming familiar with each freckle and scar and imperfection and growing to adore it as only a lover can.

I do love my city. Seattle is a cold and sparkling place full of music and art and life. The city is perched on the edge of the water, surrounded by bridges and hills and, in the distance, snow capped mountains. Every morning the sun rises over the tops of these mountains and, if the day is clear, it shines down through the crisp, clean air and glistens on the surface of the buildings that jut out of the ground like giant arms reaching skyward. From a distance, the city is a beautiful painting full of color and shadow and character. But it’s not the distant view of Seattle that I love. It’s the feel of it, the energy you breathe when you walk through the heart of downtown and experience the incredible buzz of the city rising up all around you.

If you were to come here, I would walk with you down along the waterfront. I would tell you to close your eyes and smell the way the salt from the water mixes with the thick, wet odor of the wooden piers and tingles the inside of your nose. You would hear the seagulls crying up in the air and notice how their high-pitched, guttural cries harmonize with the deep blast of the ferry’s horn as it leaves the dock.

We would venture into the market and our mouths would fill with the taste of the air around us. The flavor of fresh fruit and fried fish and just roasted coffee would dance around on your tongue and you would feel desperate to buy something from every vendor we passed, just so you could taste it all more fully.

I would lead you up one of our streets made of brick. Our feet would stumble on the uneven ground we would watch the pigeons strut confidently past us, sure-footed and fluttery, poking their beaks in between the grooves of the stones.

And if we were very lucky, if the city was awake that day, we would hear music from every corner.

We would listen to the foot-stomping, change rattling rap singer whose rhymes are made up on the spot, based on whoever is walking by at that moment. And we would stand rooted in front of the four black men singing gospel songs with voices so deep and beautiful that it breaks your heart. We wouldn’t be able to tear ourselves away from that moment, from the spell cast by the singers, and even if it began to rain we would stand there still, listening, loving these men for their talent and their passion and their bravery to stand on the sidewalk and sing their hearts out to the world.

My city is beautiful- it’s wonderful- but it’s time for me to experience more. As much as I love it here, my body is craving new smells and new sounds and new memories. I want to see everything, I want to know it all, and I want to write about it so that I will never, ever forget a single moment of this crazy, gorgeous life I live.