It's been a while since I've written anything, mostly because I've been pretty busy, but also just because I haven't made time for it. Now that I'm semi-unemployed, I should be writing more, so here goes nothing.
I have been fortunate enough to live in South Philly for two years now, and have loved pretty much every minute of it. I live in a large house with 5 other wonderful roommates, although two of them are rarely around. Some of those roommates have come and gone, or are on their way out, or are new, but in general, everyone who has lived here while I have has been awesome.
I'm also lucky enough to live on a superb block. I know my neighbors, and they know me, and we all get along swimmingly. I can generally sit on my stoop and find someone to have a conversation with anytime of day or night, and it's pretty fantastic. I've made plenty of friends, and had some crazy experiences that I wouldn't trade for anything.
I think now that we have been here for two years, we are pretty well entrenched in the community. Me especially. Part of the reason is that I'm on the stoop anywhere from 2-8 hours a day, partially because I'm smoking or drinking with my neighbors, and in part because I just enjoy it. Our stoop can be an escape, in a people-watching, chilling sense, not a middle-of-the-woods sense. And that's what it has been for me these past few years.
I can go out on my stoop, smoke a cigarette, and just think. About whatever problems I may have, about family and friends, about life in general. Sometimes my neighbors help me take my mind of things by coming over, drinking a beer or two, and discussing anything from sports to neighbors to race relations and beyond. And it's fantastic.
I know that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, this great ride is going to come to an end. As I said, roommates have already come and gone, and most are closer to leaving now. I myself may be closer to leaving than I even know, who knows? But I do know that I will cherish this time in my life, and the friends I have made, and wish that it never had to end (at risk of sounding cliche).
The moral of this story, I think, is that there are certain parts about growing up that suck. As I get older, and come to grips with that, and prepare for another part of my life, I find myself becoming more and more reminiscent, missing people and times and places, and worrying about difficult goodbyes.
I hope this doesn't come off as too sad, because that was not my intention. I am super thankful for the experiences I've had and the people I've met here in South Philly. I've been just about as lucky as anyone could ask for. I know that I have nothing but good times ahead, and look forward to them. I'm just in a reflective mood, and I know that when I leave, whenever that is, I'm going to miss the hell out of Wharton School for the Gifted.
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