I finish my salad by the scum green glass pond, a manmade center for ambiance and sunbathing turtles. There are people around but their voices are distant and the spurting of water fills my ears. We wandered thrift shops and got bubble teas before I came here. Now I am alone, surrounded by trees and universities.
It’s coming to an end, isn’t it?
I know I will miss it. I’ll miss the city skyline and the tattooed hipsters and the shops at every corner. I’ll miss the mica and the dandelions in the dirt, the old houses colored like fairytales. I’ll miss the long haired, barefoot boys playing ukuleles on their porches, those bohemian kings crowned with their scruffy bandanas.
I’ll miss dying my hair red or black and changing my style once in a while when a new crisis descends. I’ll miss weepy trees and castle like churches and every tiny piece of heaven planted here.
I’ll miss Carmen and her musical laugh and her curly hair and the rips in her jeans. I’ll miss all these beautiful weird people with creative bones and harmonious souls. I’ll miss running in the rain and proving I have a brain all while trying not to go insane.
I’ll miss spring days like this when the city is more tree than stone and this old soul feels at home. I’ll miss the tears in the dark expanse between winter and spring and all the stupid chaos that drives me to create.
I’ll miss the church where I discovered his wings and learned all the essential things. I’ll miss all the beautiful beings that taught me how to love and be loved.
I’ll miss falling asleep under glow in the dark stars to the sound of her dragon worthy snores.
I’ll miss my city and I’ll miss my home. But I know in my soul
this wandering heart is never alone.