Seattle, Wash.: There’s no place like home |

Seattle, Wash.: There’s no place like home

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Living in a resort town makes it hard to get home to see family at the traditional times of year, like Christmas. But that’s OK, as a long spring weekend in Seattle is nice: The city is stunning in spring, with all the flowers coming out and the running trails crowded. And while I like the feeling of spring Seattle, what it really comes down to is that Seattle is too far away from Aspen. Thus, I don’t get to see my mom, dad and brother nearly enough. When it gets to be too much, I just need to buy a ticket home. My brother, who lives in Seattle, definitely gets top-son status, with weekly or biweekly visits to the parental units. This is where living in Colorado helps me out; when I do go home, I instantly bump the bro from top position.

But I don’t kid myself that it could last very long. So when I do go home, I figure I may as well glory in the favorite status. This year, I’m home for Mother’s Day. And that means big points; my mom even took Friday off from work to hang out with me on the day I fly in. The whole weekend is pretty much a guaranteed good time. We’ll have waffles with strawberries on Sunday morning. There will be walks, a little Frisbee golf, perhaps a bike ride. Mostly it’s just concentrated family time.

I know plenty of people for whom this might not seem like the best thing. For me, however, it is. And it could be a bit much for some to witness. Just as an example, my brother once wrote a song about mom (I think it was called “the mommy song”) that he played at a show in downtown Seattle with his band Okie Dokie Donkey.Some of the best time in Seattle is just sitting with the mom, dad and bro around our kitchen table. It can last for hours with ongoing banter, political discussions and sometimes guitar playing or games. My mom usually stocks up for these occasions with plenty of raw veggies or cheese and crackers for munching. Tea is often involved. There may be cookies as well. Sometimes we even take the extraordinary step of chocolate.

The weekend home always ends too quickly and suddenly I’m back on a plane, flying past Mount Rainier on the way back to Aspen. Not that it’s ever a bad thing to come back to Aspen, just that sometimes I really miss my family. Joel Stonington’s e-mail address is

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