Philadelphia is the city of brotherlie love. You’d hardlie know it most days and maybe that’s kinda sad, but I still like it here. I like the buildings and the odd mismatched architecture. I like the restaurants and that strange varieties of food. I like the old stuff, all smashed up against the new. I like the people most days.
And I live there… nine floors up in Center City, with an amazing view of an Emergency Room, a parking garage and if I tilt my head right, Liberty Place. And my bed is here… my computer… my pictures, and movies and CDs… all of the things in the world that are truly mine, are here… and I geuss that makes it home.
I’m moving in a couple months, up the Parkway to a better address with an older class of tenants, and I’m excited, because I’ll be 21 floors up with my own blacony this time… and that will be nice.
But somedays I miss the grass, and the trees. And sometimes at night I miss the stars and the way the sky was actually black (or navy) at night, instead of the funny orange it is here. Sometimes I miss bonfires and climbing the trees, or being able to ride my bike down the middle of the street, but most days I love it here.
With the business, and the cement, and the bright sky and everything, it’s only sometimes that I miss that other place.