City Love

There's something about loving a city. Despite it's crime. It's pettiness. The show-offs and the have-not's. Cities are eclectic. And real. And they're hard. And dirty. And amazing. And things are always changing. And staying the same.

There's something about the place we call home. The neighbors that we know, and the spots we frequent. Our routines and the places we love with all our hearts that most people will never notice. The hole in the wall bars and taco trucks and the homeless guy whose name you know and you bought lunch that time and every time you drive by him you remember how unsettling the reality of the world is.

There's something about where we keep ourselves. From not moving from yesterday or tomorrow, the place we've placed ourselves in a certain proximity and structure, that single address where we always go back to. Cities aren't easy. But a cozy home with a locked door and full fridge can mean so much. And those without, just outside half a block away idling by the Salvation Army or Wilsons Delicatessen's. They remind us how unsettled the world is. That there is sadness. And heartbreak. And things we wish we're different.

Theres something about the shelterless sad man in the rain. He is not the problem, he just graces us with reminding ourselves that there are so many problems. So many damned problems. And in the scary city we love where we cozy up in our warm homes, we remember the distressed, and the hurt, and the sorrow of our world. And we love our broken little city for it. Cause it reminds us of reality, and every dream we've ever had.