My sister and nephew moved a couple of months ago to a house in Lake City, near where I grew up. (It's a bit closer to the 47 Beautiful Ladies and Three Ugly Ones than is quite appropriate for a young child, but nonetheless a comfortable home. It is uncanny to see another house decorated with my grandparents' furniture, but that's not the reason I titled my post as I did.) Kate works at the south end of Lake Union and has lived on Beacon Hill south of downtown for years, so I never thought she'd make the move north. But apparently Dad convinced her it'd be best for Ronel's education if they lived in a better school district.
So get this: Ronel is attending Briarcrest, the same elementary school I attended when I was his age. He is playing violin (after trying flute in the Seattle schools and trumpet, briefly, in the Shoreline schools), as I did from fifth grade through high school. Then yesterday Kate and Ronel called to tell me that my teacher from fifth grade (now retired) visited Briarcrest to open a time capsule from 20 years ago, which included letters to the future written by students, and said, "Here's a letter from one of my students, Juliet Crawford" and Ronel was like "WHAT?!?!" I maybe sort of vaguely remember something about a time capsule and letters. Ro also said there was a picture of our class and he recognized me; apparently I look the same as I did in fifth grade. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
(I'm also thinking, "I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing or misspell anything in my letter." Why do I care? I was ten. Besides, I don't think Mr. Orsborn would have let any errors through. I learned to be a perfectionist in elementary school. Also I learned that the longest word in the English language is pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. That was genuinely useful when I taught Greek and Latin roots in grad school.)
18 hours ago