Mom is incredibly curious about the future.
When we look out at the city view, she marvels, “it’s getting bigger and bigger and bigger. “ Then she begins to ask the question foremost in her mind.
“I wonder—what do you think Seattle will be like in fifty years? “ A moment later she varies the question. “What do you think it will be like in 250 years?…then 500 years.
I vary my answers as well.
“Underwater,” I say as we envision waves lapping at the windows of Horizon House.
“What do you think?” I ask. She shrugs, “I don’t know. I won’t be here. But you will.” (Adorable that she thinks I’m so young.) “You can come up to heaven and tell me what it’s like.”
She talks about her grandmother and how amazed she would be to see Seattle now (they moved here in 1890 when the population was 40,000.)
Mom is totally fascinated by the ability of our sewer system to handle the rise in population. “What will happen if everyone flushes the toilet at the same time?”
Then she laughs— amused at the prospect.