City at night, slowing down and asleep, washed in a sprinkle of rain and darkness.
Sitting six streets up in the windowsill, listening to bright eyes, wearing my p.j.’s, and overlooking the peaceful streets of Juneau in their most vulnerable state. Closed eyes, closed windows, closed doors, heads down. A heavy sigh it gives as the lights go out even as they flicker on. Guard is down.
Night is different than the peace of the morning when the city is silently pruning itself with the first lights of day as it prepares itself to greet the early risers with sunrise, coffee, and dew covered leaves. Night is a peace of rest when the city is not expecting to be seen or to see. Deeds can be hidden, lovers can love without hindrance, depression can lead one over a bridge, travel can lead you over many hidden miles, and a person can sit and be left alone. In honesty, quiet, and in peace.
As I sit six stories up looking at Juneau in the night, I think about individuality.
Individuality. The individual that continues through each new circumstance. Like the city street that stays the same though all the faces change. One year, two years, three and now four and each different than the one before. But Juneau and I, though we have grown older and still wiser, are the same. Learning to love and care for the faces that roam our streets and walk through our doors. Realizing that closed doors can be open and even locks can be broken and some people are kind enough to wipe off their feet or take off their shoes before stepping inside. That though many have crossed the threshold, both in and out, we have survived and continue still to stand. Continuous and the same as we change.