This is the view from my roof. I borrowed my mom’s camera to snag this picture, thinking it was nothing special. Then I posted it to a community with a few other pictures people had requested (about knitting, which surprises no one). I got more comments about this picture than I did about my knitting, much to my surprise.

The more I look at this picture, the more I realize how much I love my city. How much I love the skyline. I’ve only been forced to fly in once, leaving me little chance to send my heart into flutters at the sight of familiar buildings; but the one time it happened, my heart was in my throat. It was like I was flying back to Mississippi; I LOVE the way Jackson looks from the air. As my plane comes in for it’s landing, I give out-of-towners these cute little guided tours from the air, with lots of squeaks and giggles. That’s how it felt coming back to Philly. I could name those buildings. I could tell you where my bank was and which river was which and why I knew this part of the city better than that one. I’d watched the planes from the ground long enough to know the flight path. (West Philly is in the path of a lot of the planes, especially those from points south.)

I keep looking at this picture, letting it sink into my mind that Philly is now my city. This is my view. Not something to slap onto a postcard and mail away. Oh no. This is what will be burned into my heart when I move away for college. This is the view I will remember when I get old. This is mine. Finally.