Destruction, Reincarnation
Today I balance between an end and a beginning, a movement of life, miles and minutes from drastic change. Today I must pack all my belongings quickly, efficiently. I must salvage everything of my life in DC. Any item I cannot or do not pack will be archived in the attic for generations.
I must pick up my life and move it to another location. This process is synthetic and a byproduct of modernity. It’s sort of disturbing to think a person can be in one place on a given day, and utterly disappear the next.
I will be driving to New York City tomorrow morning, and I don’t think I’ll ever turn back. I might not ever look back. Perhaps I’ll return to the District one day, but my heart will always remain in the skyscrapers of Manhattan, the blocks of Brooklyn, in the city’s maw, permeating.
Tomorrow there will be a sorrowful destruction. A boy will leave the nest. Goodbyes always hurt in a soft way. Endings always tear me up. The family that lovingly raised me will say farewell and goodluck. As I exit the District, I will not be able to forget that.
But as we approach Manhattan, and I behold its magnificient spires, its inspiring vastness, I will be unable to look away. A place where 10 million people have 10 million dreams, how profound!
And I will add my small lot to it.
Goodbye, in the sickly sweet sort of way.
