Bellingham...

I never lived here, but Bellingham will always feel like a second home to me. Both my sisters went to college at Western, and when I was in high school, my dad took a job as campus architect there. My parents rented the third-floor apartment in this building on High Street, which took up a quarter of the third floor. The broad staircase rose through the center of the building, with wood steps and handrails darkened by time and polished by hundreds of hands.

Our apartment had high ceilings and built-in cupboards, and had a killer view out over Bellingham Bay. I loved visiting my dad there, spending a week or so every summer. I'd watch out the windows as college kids walked past on their way to campus, and in the afternoon I'd take a blanket and a book across the street and lay in the sun for a few hours. When I think very hard, I can almost feel what it was like to walk in through the big glass door and climb those stairs, surrounded by dust motes dancing in the sunlight and the faint scent of an old building.

The past few years, we've gotten in the habit of staying in town whenever we pass through, to give us a chance to get reacquainted. Bellingham has changed a lot from those high school visits, but so much is still the same. The great downtown core, with one-way streets and views over the water especially. It's a hub for micro-breweries these days, fun to investigate. And there are great restaurants.

Before we left this morning, we drove past the old apartment building, the only one on this long street of bungalows. When we lived here, the houses were in pretty sad shape. But not any more. There are still couches on the front porches, and I imagine the college kids still hang out there on nice evenings. But the houses are painted and the yards are green with grass, and the whole of college hill looks like someplace you'd love to live.