Pike Place

Every Saturday she wanders
the Pike Place Fish Market
in search of the freshest Salmon or Halibut,
sometimes even Snapper or Trout.
She eyes the cuts carefully,
examining the clearness of the eyes
the brightness of the scales
the thickness of the steaks.

Every Saturday he watches her
weave between the hoards of people.
He keeps his head down
toward his work,
but his eyes flicker
between her and the fish he cuts.
His hands are covered in blood
and fish juice,
leaving them dry
with a film of white.
He stops to stare at his hands:
how dirty, how filthy they are.
Scars and cuts pepper his skin,
and he opens and closes his hands,

flexing the thick muscles beneath his weathered skin.
He picks off a shred of Halibut stuck to his thumb,
and flicks it to the barrel full
of innards, leftover skin, and fatty cuts.
He keeps his head down
in shame as he picks up the knife again.

Were these brought in today?
He hears a voice ask, each syllable
ringing like a soft bell.
He looks up and his eyes widen,
he stares into her face:
her cheeks flushed from the cold,
her eyes, bright as oceans he sees
in the glossy pages of National Geographic.
He holds her glance, his mouth gaping.
He stands still, hunched over the body
of the Halibut
he isn’t quite finished cutting.

Well? They look fresh
But you never know these days,
she cracks a smile,
and he can’t help but smile back.
He stands up slowly, and puts the knife down.
He wipes his hands
on his apron, covered in rust red
stains.

As fresh as you can get here
is all he can muster.

He takes her order, straining
to keep his eyes from wandering
back to hers.
He almost gives her Swordfish,
instead of Halibut,
8 pounds,
instead of 6.

Thank you, I’ll see you next Saturday,
and her smile seems to fly off her face
and hit him in the chest
and knock the wind out of him,
because all he can say
is goodbye.

And it starts...

Years ago I started a blog. I ranted and I raved about the injustices of society and the pains of growing up, but now I'm a woman and it all seems so silly. I have decided to start fresh, though, knowing myself, I will most likely continue to rant and rave every now and then.

Over the last year I've grown up, changed priorities, started new interests, and picked up old hobbies I've forgotten about. In other words, I'm beginning to define myself. When we're young, we think we're in this box labeled "ME" and we think it's fantastic and amazing, and maybe at one point we were; but as we grow up, we realize that there are aspects that could be tweaked. What I've learned is that my definition of myself changes every day, every week. Every experience defines who you are, and over the years I've experienced things that have drastically changed my outlook on life. And so, I'm blogging about these adventures. From political rants, to photography expeditions, to healthy (or unhealthy) eating, to baking, to poetry, to new music; you name it, I'll be blogging about it.

So who really is the woman behind the keyboard? With each post you'll know more. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey.

"Live as if your were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever." -- Mahatma Gandhi