I’m in college far from home. I live in a house with about 20 other people and the goal the house is to live sustainably, or at least as sustainable as one can in an ancient neighborhood bordering small city. There is a native pollinate or box out front and solar panels on the roof. Shower heads are low flow and we do our best to be our best for our planet. This is the second year I’ll live in this house and this is the last year I’ll live in this house. By this time next year I’ll be living some other place. Maybe another house. Who knows. The best part of this house, what I’m going to miss the most is this: see the third floor the Attic goes up far higher than the second floor which means you need a fire escape. This fire escape goes across the roof of the second story and to the windows of the third floor and from there you can sit on the roof or on the metal catwalk leading to the stairs.
This is my favorite place in school.
Doesn’t matter if it’s daytime or night, but I find myself up here more often at night. Nights when I need to run from something inside myself but physically can’t leave, or nights up here when I am stressed or sad or really just looking for something to do. It’s a good place at night. You can see the moon and the very few stars that are bright enough to be visible in the glow of the small city. If you look you look off the back of the house you see the Marriott Hotel glowing ever bright. Looking to the front you see the beautiful tower of the seminary. The seminary is not part of our school but I wish it was because god I love that tower.
I don’t know why up on the roof tonight I think I might be anxious the first day of classes tomorrow the, last first day of classes for undergrad and possibly forever. Probably the last first I’m not too beaten up over.
I’m not native to Pennsylvania. I feel like I have two homes and, well, Pennsylvania is not one of them. A tiny island in Florida is my second home, and my first home, the original home, a small town right outside of Chicago on a street called Franklin where kids play outside on their bikes, scribble chalk over the sidewalk, and on Friday nights the adults to hang out on the front porch drinking cheap wine together and talking about the weeks events while the kids go off and play kickball or softball or baseball in the field right down the street. There are so many kids, and each is loved and cared for. It’s a storybook town, or at least the storybook neighborhood. It’s where I grew up, a place of a lot of firsts and almost as many last firsts. The second home, on the island, I haven’t seen in over a year. Not since the storm took away houses and boats and trees. I miss it, but in a different way.
Maybe that’s why I’m awake tonight, that’s why I’m lying on my back on a rickety old fire escape catwalk, far too late to go to bed but far too early to get up. Waiting for the last first day of classes, waiting to time that is acceptable to say screw it. I’m just going to take a damn shower and face today with the smiling face and if anyone tried to stop me Don’t. I may be here because I’m scared or I’m here cuz I’m home sick or maybe I am here because combination of chemicals in my brain is never balance quite right even with the things that are supposed to help it, which means I just will be awake for hours. But hey, if I’m going to be awake for hours, this rooftop isn’t that bad place to spend them.
This is the start of my final year of college before having to make Big Decisions. I’m going to try and keep this thing up to date with my wanderings and adventures, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Oh, and the furry.