I live here now. We live here now. A new pace with more peace, but fewer faces. The space is healthy: a cookable kitchen and a balcony with cold breeze. There is real rest growing here, and streets of shade. You can see the sky.
During the day, I write even when my heart’s not in it. At night, we watch candles and movies. In the morning, the coffee is steam against the air.
On weekends, we explore.
I am interning for Barack Obama. I’ve never volunteered before- my almosts were for ego or guilt and didn’t last. But this feels so natural that I know it is good. Yesterday I called senior citizens and was alternately harpooned and inspired. Today we registered over 100 voters at Carthage, and I got a whiff of farmers’ market friendly. It felt so good encouraging people to participate, even if we’re checking different boxes come November.
I still feel like an outsider here. I don’t know my way around the streets or socials. But in a way, I’m already a better citizen than I have been anywhere else. Can you be a good steward without loving a place? Or what if you love it but never step up?