The Roads of Bothell.

Oh, my beautiful Bothell. What has happened to you?

When I was young, you were small, carefree, and quiet;

But when I visited you today during rush hour,

You were cramped, and busy, and crowded.

Is this what you wanted? The wear, the pollution, the grief?

Is this the result of “progress”? Of decades of government planning at taxpayer expense? Is the cost of building the economy worth the price?

You used to be called “country”, “out of the way”, “Podunk”;

A dozen different ways to refer to your supposed inefficiency.

But if what you had was inefficient, than what does efficiency mean?

What does it matter to have it all, if you can never get to it?

What does convenience matter when it becomes inconvenient?

Perhaps I will just grit my teeth, and wake up earlier, and earlier,

To try to tame the wild waves of your ever-rising tide.

Perhaps I will go to City Hall, and stage protests, and write letters.

Perhaps I will simply run away, to a smaller city, a quieter city;

To remember what things once were like, before that city too succumbs.

For the roads of Bothell are more than just streets in a city, or lines on a map.

They are the roads that run through all of us. The roads of “progress”.

Pushing us ever forward, even if it seems like we are standing still.

Brian Frisbie, Bothell