When did this become my city?
As I sat on the bench, overlooking the river and the highway and downtown, I hoped to get a glimpse of the satellite that supposedly rained down on Okotoks last night. The coolness of the air and the sounds of the city traffic brought on a sort of disjointed nostalgia. I remembered life before bills and boyfriends and benches – a life of star-gazing and campfires. Of wheat chaff and bush congregations. Then of the way the city smelled and sounded at night in the first years I lived in one – crisp, new, thrilling.
I think it’s the time of year affecting my sensibilities as it always does. And yet I wonder – how did I get to the here and now? On this bench, peering over this river? When did Calgary become mine?
I saw no satellite, no glimmer of light crashing toward the earth. Instead I saw an intricate moment of time and being. What a great way to ring in autumn.