Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Eveningland

The curly red hair and blond pony tail in front of me bob along to the beat of the newest song that sounds like all the rest they play on the radio these days. But I sit quietly in the backseat with the weight of the world on my shoulders (my world at least). The water beneath us is dark as pavement and its glassy surface mimics the skyline above. My eyes follow the street lights that line the river's edge, leading off to the distance.

My thoughts wonder from the fights of this afternoon and pain and worry to the role this city has played in my life the past 3 1/2 years. The sidewalks of Westport have felt the weight of my steps, heavy as I walked out anger, frustration, pain, confusion. There is a table by the window in the corner of Broadway Cafe that has held me for many a Saturday afternoon. Prospero's Book Store taught me the art of bartering. The parks in which I, and hundreds of others, fought for the beautiful children of northern Uganda. I have run into this city, seeking refuge, solitude, excitement and run from this city, desperately seeking adventure and freedom.

Not so long ago, this skyline held my future and before the year's end, it will hold part of my past.
And I'm going to miss the glow of the Western Auto sign.


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