This morning I dropped off our daughter at preschool, then made my way West on Route 18 through downtown Akron.
This beat-up, Rustbelt survivor; broken in a state of endless recovery, and reinvention.
Its buildings gleaming in the sun, its chilly autumn breath revealing my own. Done with the sticky summer, I saw all Signs of Life. (Albeit a tempered hustle; a murmuring, modest bustle.)
I thought back to my morning commutes in Los Angeles, and Chicago.
I had run away screaming from Northeast Ohio the first chance I had.
But in this moment, cresting the hill at High St,
working West, down past Main,
up toward Saint Vincent cathedral, where I married my Rustbelt princess 14 summers back…
I suddenly knew this place feels more soulful, and beautiful than any of the destination cities I’ve been lucky to live, or work in.
And as soon as that acknowledgement came, another arrived on its heels:
That cities and economies expand and contract, civilizations boom, then bust. But the common denominator through all of it has been me;
These days I’m absorbing more beauty, and working my hardest to project some of it back.
This beat-up, Rustbelt survivor; broken in a state of endless