We stepped off the elevator and looked down. Seattle’s Space Needle has an observation deck with a glass floor near the top of the structure. Through it, we clearly saw the ground below…500 feet below. Heights don’t usually bother me, but when I noticed the floor under me wasn’t stationary, my stomach gave a lurch. Tammie announced, “The top of the space needle turns 360 degrees in an hour.” I nodded to indicate I’d heard her. Agnes nonchalantly walked away from us across the glass floor to get a good spot to look out over the city.

Rejoining us, Agnes commented, “Isn’t there supposed to be a restaurant up here?”

Trying hard to remember what I’d read about the space needle, I squinted as though trying to reread the article from a distance, “I think there were two restaurants. They were closed a few years ago so the space could be remodeled and opened in the future as one big restaurant.”

My daughter, sister and I had arrived in Seattle less than 24 hours earlier. Since then, we made good use of our time by exploring the neighborhood around our bungalow, attending Mass at a nearby church, shopping and finding a wonderful restaurant where we had a relaxing meal. Since today was a Sunday, one of Agnes’ sons and his wife who lived thirty miles east of Seattle, had come to spend the afternoon with us.

I had visited the Seattle Space Needle in 2000 with my late husband Arnie, and Tammie. So many changes had been made to this area that the only thing recognizable to me was the Space Needle, which had been built in 1962 for the world fair held in Seattle that year. All the restaurants, hotels, flower-lined sidewalks, gift shops and the Chihuly Garden and Glass were new to me. The carnival atmosphere that afternoon was supported by food stands selling unusual treats, and a street entertainer playing an electric violin for money thrown into his instrument case.

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