The lonely city

The view from one of my living room windows this morning

   Today is Thanksgiving day, I don't have to work today or tomorrow, and I my wife and I are invited to a good friend's house for a meal this evening. These things would certainly be on my wish list, would I to have one, if I were to detail things I'd like for the next two days. Still, I wake up with a healthy dose of melancholy this morning; it's drizzling outside, and there's a feeling of sadness inside of me.

   I can recall many years when I would look out of my window on Christmas, Thanksgiving or New Year's Day, and be moved by the stillness outside. I've lived in cities my entire life, and it's really difficult not to notice the quiet on these occasions. I love it when it's quiet, but the silence on these days is impregnated with a loneliness for me. I know that the lack of movement around me signifies that the people who would normally be busily walking or driving their cars are probably with their families or friends, yet I imagine all those people being alone. It's as if human isolation is made more tangible by a sense of community.

   There have been many years that I have experienced these holidays, sometimes having a place to go, and sometimes not, at times alone, and sometimes with a partner or wife, but this feeling I have doesn't seem contingent on my own plans or company for the day. When I look out of the window, the relative calm makes the city look lonely and superfluous. Is it that the city planners, architects, designers and engineers all worked together to produce something that was not useful or appreciated? Perhaps the city is just being given a well deserved day off? Still, I find it difficult to comprehend how the calm that I so value can leave me feeling so hollow.