Lancaster, PA

Lancaster Pennsylvania holds nostalgia for me – especially the city. I miss it. I think about my cozy, one bedroom apartment high in the city on the 8th floor, with its huge window and welcoming balcony. I used to spend hours laying on that balcony soaking up the soft rays of winter sunshine. or writing to my hearts content to then fall asleep to the sound of the local fire station’s trucks. Never would I have imagined that the sirens would become my lullaby. Frequently, I would buy sunflowers at the local market and joyfully place them all over the apartment spreading cheer to every crack and corner. My cats and ferret would congregate in the middle of the living room floor, in a pile, for a nap. It was idealistic, and it didn’t stop there; the greatness extended out to the city beyond my doorstep…

I would often bundle up in a sweater, scarf, mittens and a hat and wander the streets of the city in 30 degree weather in search of something wonderful to photograph or people to watch. Other times, I meandered while organizing my thoughts about life. If this was a movie then some melancholy music would begin playing and I would be shown walking past picturesque establishments with a smile on my face and snowflakes would  fall. The city was bustling with artists and the young who deemed themselves individualistic. Nose rings, colored hair,  and pheasant wear all complimented by raging passions for human rights. They sat in coffee shops laughing over the stories or their day, discussing the plight of the women in Darfur and how to get people to vote. I  was envious. I wasn’t fun like them. I wore normal clothes and had nary a piercing or tattoo but I shared in their idealistic goals of life and humanistic passions. I would sit next to them, blending in with the corner and  just listen to their banter, wishing that I could have that too. Where did I fit into this big mess we call life, where was I going and was there any real reason?

Sadly, life wasn’t really how I remembered it. I was a distraught young person in the aftermath of a divorce. Everything I spent building, in the last seven of my twenty two years had been destroyed. I was on autopilot; going through the motions but not really there. It was the goading of a friend that gave me a spark. That spark would carry me across the country to a new life. It started with a phone call which turned into a trip to walmart for a the largest road map I could find. Sitting in my living room of my apartment I ran my fingers along the roads I know quite well now. University, Baseline, Beardsley…all memorized and categorized. I quivered with anticipation knowing this needed to happen quick, before I chickened out. Gathering up my map quickly, I jumped into the car and drove 10 miles over the speed limit to my parents house. After the customary greetings, I sat them down at the diner table, spread out my map, pointed to a dot and said “I am moving here.” There was silence and with tears in her eyes my mother said the words that sealed the deal  “I think this will be good for you.” This was the begining of MY journey to find out who I was going to be when the pieces were brought back together.

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