A fair number of people have expressed some surprise that I enjoy living in DC. After all, I have no car, live in the heart of the city, have no private outdoor space, and can’t see the mountains.
It’s everything that should add up for a disastrous match, but it’s not.
I went jogging this morning through Logan Circle, near my apartment. In the early morning light, it just felt peaceful. Around that part of DC, sometimes I run past houses that have sprawling porches and overgrown trees. I also run by spartan townhouses with narrow landings. It’s this eclectic mix that I absolutely love. DC’s small population yet large influence are an odd combo that doesn’t really exist anywhere else. It’s somehow far enough north for the pace of the city (and its people) to be quick, but far enough south that you can still find a waitress who will call you “honey.” There are green spaces absolutely everywhere, and that almost makes up for the lack of mountains. (Almost.) The buildings aren’t so tall you can’t see the sky, like they are in New York City, where I was last weekend.
I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to live in NYC, which kills me as one of my goals is to work for the Times at some point. When I was there recently, I had a full-on panic attack due to the claustrophobia in of Times Square. (Granted, it was after having ridden in a car that my father was driving through the heart of the city, so there may have been some other factors at play.) I don’t feel that way here. And while I can’t wait to see where God takes me next, I sort of have my fingers crossed that He’ll let me stay here a while…