My City

Isn't it ironic that we spend our lives trading one thing for another. We trade the beautiful colors for palm-tree filled paradise. We trade being with someone we love to living alone and we trade a city full of cobblestones and outdoor dining for a city that's mismatched and not really alive in exactly the same way. Don't get me wrong, I am immensely enjoying this era of my life and learning from all the experiences that I am supposed to, waking up every morning to the ocean and the beautiful blue sky. But suddenly this morning it dawned on me, I won't have the fall this year, not in the way I love. I won't have the changing color, not in the way I love. I won't have those days when it's bone chillingly cold but somehow still so beautiful. I won't have the dark rainy winter days I love or that time in the fall when everybody moves their outdoor tables inside.

I am realizing more and more every day that while my life here is beautiful, stunning actually and it seems that I've gotten everything I've always wanted, another city will always be my home. This place here, while beautiful and seductive, isn't the city I love... it's not the place I will ever call my real home.

And while there may be many cities in my life, and they all will have things I love, like this beautiful view and a balcony overlooking the city, none of them will have the feeling of the one city that became mine at 18, the one city that sits on the Willamette River and the city that a 20 minute walk will get you anywhere. It's the city that's not really a real "city city" but big enough to look impressive. It's the city that first made me feel alive, the city that I habitually feel safe in. It's the city that holds my heart and perhaps it always will.