A CITY IS A CITY

I'm sitting in my room, trying, but not too hard, to do some homework. My desk is positioned to look out the window to our backyard. There is an alley that runs to the side of our house and behind and often times people walk through these alleys and of course, cars make their way through. Since the house is so close to Catholic University, The National Basilica, two Theological schools, and the Franciscan Monastary, it's nothing out of the ordinary to see Monks, in their black robes, walking past the house and on the streets. There is something of beauty about the city and the people that inhabit it. I don't associate Washington D.C. with monks as much as I would with, Taize, France or some larger city in Europe. So when I see these Monks walking on Sunday morning or to and from class or mass with their bookbags, I crack a smile of delight because a city is a city. Yes, of course, Paris is different than Washington D.C. New York is different from say, Frankfurt, but people who make up these cities generally are the same.

Clearly my nostalgic self is just in a reflective mood. I realized yesterday that I have been in D.C. for a month and the time has just flown by. My time here is short and that is so disappointing, but at least I know that this is one more city on my list of favorite cities. I'm reminded everyday as to why I can't see myself being anywhere else but in a city in a small little one bedroom apartment enjoying life.