Katherine and I moved to the near west side to have our own corner of the city, away from the place where I grew up, but close enough so that we could visit whenever we wanted. That’s pretty much exactly how it’s worked out. We’re in Cleveland Heights all the time, visiting my parents (free babysitting increases the appeal). But yesterday as I was coming up Fairmount from Cedar and saw the snow glazing the branches, like a too-perfect painting except that it was real, I missed Cleveland Heights intensely. Detroit Shoreway has its own beauty, from the stout bay windowed Victorians to the little vinyl sided cottages with asymmetrical roof lines, and it’s awesome to have the lake nearby, but I still think Cleveland Heights is the most beautiful part of the city.
Philip Larkin wrote: “Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped to the comfort of the last to go / As if to win them back.” Home is not sad to me, but there’s something both sad and nice about going back to where you’re from.
Nathan as he was going to bed last night: “Daddy, you can’t throw rocks into the ocean, because they might hit the fish. Also, they might think they were prey and try to eat them.”
And Jonathan turns two years old tomorrow!