The highway wound through a valley, over a river, past fields, small hamlets, and many stands of vibrant green trees. Tall, thickly forested baby mountains surrounded us. People were busy riding bikes along the two-lane highway, while others worked in their yards as we zipped past. One of my eardrums suddenly and painfully popped while going up a steep incline and then down again into another valley. The sounds in the car became distorted, as if coming to me from an empty void through a hollow tube. I swallowed hard, trying to make the eardrum pop back to normal.

Several months ago, Tammie and I were reminiscing about the trip to Seattle that Arnie, my late husband, and I took her on in the summer between high school graduation and the start of college over twenty years ago. It was a wonderful trip-a special time that we all treasured. Tammie asked, “Would you ever want to go to Seattle again?”

I didn’t have to think for long. I enthusiastically responded, “Yes, I would!” and added, “You know, three of my nephews live in Washington state. What do you think of this idea: we take Agnes with us? Her sons-John, Karl, and Gary-all live in different cities, but maybe we can coordinate our schedules, and get together.”

Tammie took care of the details. She bought our airplane tickets, arranged for a rental car, found an Airbnb for us to stay at while in Seattle, and then a hotel for while we were in Snoqualmie, where John and his wife Gail live.

When Tammie asked me what I wanted to see while in Washington, one of the things I mentioned was an art museum showing the art and artifacts of indigenous people who lived in the Pacific Northwest long before white men came.

Tammie assured me she’d found an interesting place for us to visit. She said the place we were going to was called the Hibulb Cultural Center. Gail had the day off, and since she was more familiar with the area, offered to drive. Karl came along, too. As we got into the car, my daughter Tammie instructed, “Mom, you sit up front next to Gail. That way you’ll be less likely to feel motion sick. I’ll sit in the back seat with Agnes and Karl.”

Instead of traveling on a main highway, Gail took a beautiful, scenic route. Repeatedly, as we wound through the valleys, turning left and right, up and down, we were treated to grand, quintessential state of Washington vistas: imposing, but distant, snowcapped mountains, which were framed by innumerable smaller peaks in the foreground, and richly covered with pine and poplar trees.

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