A Year in the City I Chose to Call Home
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A Year in the City I Chose to Call Home
When I arrived last January, I knew almost no one and carried a suitcase that held everything I owned. Twelve months later I walk streets that feel familiar and greet shopkeepers who recognize my face before I speak.
Spring began in a park where cherry trees that line the central path burst into blossom. Families who picnicked on grass that had thawed shared food that smelled of herbs and lemon. I read on a bench that faces the pond and wrote emails that described progress I was making at work.
Summer brought festivals that filled squares where musicians who played traditional instruments attracted crowds that danced until midnight. I volunteered at a stall that sold lemonade whose profits supported a shelter that housed people who had lost stable housing. The
