To the Nines

Two thousand nine has been quite an intriguing year for me thus far, both personally and professionally.  I’m at a loss as to whether numbers have any true significance to one’s path through this life, but the following keeps crossing my mind, so here goes:

In 2009, I’ve celebrated my 50th year–in itself a milestone for any man of African descent in this country.  I further was born in the ninth month of 1959, on the 15th day, at 9:20 a.m.  I’m 5’9″ in height, and weigh 215 lbs.  So, what is it about me, nines and fives?  Anything?  Nothing?  My own private Davinci Code?  Hmmm.  Who can say?  But enough with the mental gymnastics already.

Just over my right shoulder, from this desk where I now write, I can peer out of the large, picturesque windows of my Chicago hi-rise apartment.  A new development for me is that since I last waxed poetically here, I’ve moved to a new place.  My first time relocating in 15 years (yes, there’s that number again!).  I can see my former building from here, but now I’m actually looking down upon its 25 stories.  That tower used to seem so daunting.

My new home is 43 floors up, and it looks west.  The view is spectacular, especially at night.  Most of the city’s thousands of points of light twinkle a light gold and white color.  Signs of life, and evidence of civilization in a place where wondrous, and too often terrible things are happening to people that I’ll read about, and see on the news in the morning.

I’m high up enough that I can see planes landing at both of Chicago’s airports, and I can also spy storm clouds so far off in the distance that I can pretty much determine when they’ll reach downtown.  I wonder, sometimes, what God’s view must be like.

Oh well, it’s 10:59.  Time I turned in (but of course, not really).


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