Had no idea where I was going in a wintry 1993, much less arriving.
Bit of a rise from the west, where the unknown city comes into view.
That Oldsmobile was groaning with the weight of all I needed, then.
Pushing through, an intrepid whitewater rafter seeking new rapids.
The biggest place I would ever live in twinkled, sparkled -- beckoned.
Little did I know that every sidewalk crack was waiting for my shoe.
Canal trails, wondering when the prairie boy would get on the scene.
My new hometown. Four gargoyles on that Center Tower winked:
This, friend, is England without the bad teeth that goes along with it.
And miracle of it all -- I landed a penthouse suite within sight of them.
Two decades on I have no regrets. Sometimes the past needs to fade.
You can never know what will be until you get in the Cutlass and drive.
Every time I come home nowadays, I hit the signal on a certain exit --
Take that one turn, named for a saint shoving things down a chimney.
And realize anew that where I live is the best gift I've ever been given.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --