She’s always waiting for me.
It doesn’t matter how long I’m gone or how absent I’ve been. She doesn’t care whether or not I have paid attention and been in touch, or if I disappear only to return out of the blue.
Whenever I return, this magnificent City opens her arms and pulls me in, intoxicating me with that rich scent of brine and salt drifting on damp, chilled air. She wraps around me, saturating every pore, pulling my eyes towards the mantle of gray that she pulls around her shoulders right around the same time every afternoon.
Our relationship has changed, though. There is unfinished business that I now see clearly, reasons why my thoughts wend their way here.
Things change. Buildings rise where once there were none. Others, once magnificent and regal showing signs of wear and decay. These streets I know so well remain familiar but some of the places that once appeared glossy seem threadbare and in need of a freshness that may not come.
Looking more closely I see that it is not really the City that has changed. Yes, there are some physical shifts, but for the most part she remains as she has been. What has changed, rather, is the person whose gaze alights upon the hills.