When that realization first started sinking in, it was easy to resist it--the idea of settling in when few things feel comfortable is preposterous. However, rhythms make it easy to push down roots until I find myself getting increasingly attached to this big, noisy city. What was once strange or quaint or potentially a little ugly is starting to look beautiful--not in the way something looks lovely when we glance at it for a few moments--but in the way that family is beautiful. It's something which winds itself around your heart until you find yourself becoming oddly loyal to it, still knowing full well how imperfect and irritating it can be. And I guess that's what this new phase of life is like too. It's beautiful because I'm starting to understand it; I love it because it's becoming mine.
|Sadly, this picture isn't mine--but this is really what the city looks like at night. Any wonder I love it?|