I have fallen in love with Minneapolis this year. I said before that I don’t love Africa and now I am confessing a new love. I don’t know if that is because I am now old enough to appreciate the city or because I look at everything through Djibouti-tinted glasses. I don’t care about the why, I just know that I love this city.

The skyline reflecting pink and orange from sunrises over the Sunset Cemetery hill while I jog. The Mill City Museum, the building maintained in its post-fire state and visible from the river. The Mississippi River, with beautiful bridges every half mile: the Stone Arch Bridge, Meeker Island, 10th Avenue, Franklin Avenue, Nicollet Island Railroad Bridge…A higher percentage of land devoted to parks than any other city in the nation. That funny orange building that lights up at night and looks like a monster watching over the city. The Foshay building where I went for pre-natal check-ups with Henry and Maggie.
Lilac bushes in spring. Juicy worms squirming across the sidewalk one day, dead and crusted to it the next. Robins. Tulips. Entire trees turned white and pink.
The feeling toward a city that goes from this
to this
can only be love.
Too bad it is a love that can’t last. I have only three and a half months left to enjoy you, Minneapolis, and then we are breaking up. I’ll probably cry, I know you won’t shed a tear. I’m going back to my hot steady. It isn’t as pretty as you, I don’t even like it as much. But I belong there and you can’t fight that.
(p.s. VOTE! Djibouti Jones is in third place. Thanks you everyone!)