Lament for Downtown Living
I miss things. The barista at the coffee shop who knew not to ask, “Room for cream?” The friendly nod of the man who always got to the bus stop before me. The thundering bass from the apartment above, rhythmic declaration that the weekend had arrived. The chorus of cooing pigeons on the balcony, calling us awake before the alarm. The jagged shadows of the leafless trees, back lit by a row of streetlamps. The smell of fresh-baked croissants sneaking into the apartment lobby. The overheard banter between students walking back to campus after last call. The consumption limits, imposed by small spaces. The naive faith we shared, that a 2-bedroom apartment would be plenty of room for us and a baby. The ease of slipping a rent cheque in a slot. The ignorance about the pros and cons of variable or fixed mortgages. The righteous opinion that suburbia was for the old and boring.
neighbour stops shoveling