I'm sitting at my desk on a Friday afternoon trying to catch up with emails and projects and things to do. The building is empty, the last day of the four-day work week pilot project.
The summer is ending.
House of Pizza is open again after their much dreaded (at least in Central) annual summer vacation. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief and marched up the street to eat pizza and drink beer.
My kids started school this week. The baby started his first day of kindergarten at Crockett Elementary, the same school that my brothers and I grew up in. The baby's class is populated with a whole slew of kids whose parents went to school with me and my brothers. I walk with the boys, when they will let me, down the same path that I walked to school on growing up.
I guess I should be reporting to you all the latest goings on at the city or the new policy question before us, but mostly I just wanted you to know that I love the neighborhood I live in, the very same neighborhood that I grew up in. I love walking up to House of Pizza on a Thursday night in August. I love summer nights in Newman Park. I love walking my boys to school, waving to my parents as we begin our walk. I love chatting with the parents in the school yard, catching up after the summer, so many of us raised and rooted in this neighborhood. I love walking home towards the Franklin Mountain, daydreaming about the day and thinking about everything that I need to do. My love for this city grew on Louisville Street and that is where my heart still remains. The rhythm of this neighborhood is who I am.