At Large in Ballard: Twenty-One
By Peggy Sturdivant
Twenty-one years ago on the 21st day of March a nurse helped transfer my day-old baby into the virgin car seat placed in middle back of the Honda car. Along with other pregnant women the vernal equinox had worked like a charm; we’d arrived in a wave to the Family Childbirth Center, top floor of then-Ballard Community Hospital. My room overlooked the 7-11 that still rules at the corner of Market and 17th NW.
Almost exactly twenty-one years later I was the clueless arrival first out of the airport chute in Santiago, Dominican Republic. The incubation period should have been longer. One should not be able to board an ice-coated airplane in New York at 8 a.m. and emerge four hours later in the tropics. The culture shock is too great, especially coupled with a confident, glowing young woman suddenly breaking from the waiting throng and calling, “Mom.”