living in the city the past two weeks has instilled in me a level of contentment and peace i haven’t felt in a very long time. i can’t explain it, except to say i just feel complete here; i feel like i belong. it’s exploding out of me, like in the gentle way i look at myself in the mirror in the morning (usually it is very difficult to look at myself “gently,” especially in the morning). the way i actually WANT to call my mom these days. the way i want to go running around the lakes. the way i have the energy to put myself out there, to want to help people, to make new friends and rekindle old friendships. the way i want to follow-through with getting a tattoo. the way i actually want to write again. the way i am considering going to church after all these years. and after feeling like i’ve “not belonged” in so many areas of my life, for so long, it is quite a relief to feel A PART of something once again.
i don’t know what it is about this place. it could have something to do with walking into my apartment building after a long day at work and being overtaken by the wonderful aromas leaking out from under my neighbor’s doorway. i never know what they are cooking, but it smells like home.
i can walk to get cigarettes, groceries, a book from the library, and a beer from a bar all in the same night without feeling like i’m running errands. i look up at the moon and am in awe to witness such peacefulness in the sky above such a bustling city life. i love that juxtaposition this city has: such beauty among such chaos. it astounds me. and i feel so lucky to be a part of it all.
when i wake up to the creaky steps of the tenants above me getting ready in the morning, i am not mad. i am relieved to know that i am not alone in facing this day. when i am trying to sleep at night, the riotous laughing and conversation late into the night among the group of friends on the patio outside my window is, surprisingly, comforting. it makes me feel a part of something bigger than myself and life and worries and dreams and doubts and hopes — a community, of sorts. there’s something so captivating about being able to literally have a glimpse (or earful) into someone else’s life and friendships just outside my window without having to say a word, without ever even introducing myself. i fall asleep to the rise and fall of their voices. i’ve always wanted to live by the ocean, and maybe i will someday, but the tide of these strangers’ conversations speaking into my life is a close runner up to waves crashing on a shore in front of me.
i think it fondly reminds me of a habit i had when i was little. my parents used to put my brothers and i to bed and then they would stay up together. just the two of them, they would sit in our living room down the hall from my bedroom and listen to classical music on their record player (and yes, they had a tape/CD player, but they preferred their records). i can’t say what exactly inspired me to do so at such a young age, but i would take my covers from my bed and curl up next to my bedroom door on the floor. i would crack it open just enough to eavesdrop on their entire adult world. i would listen to their music and the inflection of their voices, never able to fully make out their words, but all the while falling asleep to the harmony of the pages of their magazines turning, lazy conversation, the tea kettle whistling “i’m ready,” and the music occasionally being interrupted by the scratch scratch of the needle on the record.
when i drive home from work now, i like to explore my new neighborhood by taking different routes to get to my place. i drive real slow and look at all the beautiful homes with so much history packed into their foundation and try to imagine the kind of people that live there. what their lives are like. what they do when they are not earning the millions of dollars they need to pay for their mortgage. what kind of room that little window above their garage is in. i like looking at their gardens too. i think a person’s garden says a lot about them. i saw these bright light purple flowers all clumped together and low to the ground in someone’s garden the other day. just stunning, as they draped themselves over a stone wall like a blanket. and all i could think was, “i want to KNOW the person who picked and planted those flowers.” and then i thought to myself that it has been a long time since something as simple as flowers have inspired me so.
when it’s all said and done, and i’ve laid it out for you in black and white here, the part that really gets me giddy is that i can say that all THIS, this city, these feelings, this JOY — it’s all mine mine mine. and i’m playing for keeps this time.
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