The last few months I’ve been spending a lot of time in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. It is an old town, built along the sloping banks of the Schuylkill River. It is an hour from where I live, along the lanes of route 100 and 422. I pass through vast, glimmering farm land and wide expansions of strip malls. The narrow streets and row homes tell me it once swelled with a strong industry, providing a good life to working people. Now it is a smattering of the young moving in and the old staying put.
I head south on the weekends, as the love and admiration of a boy that I love and admire in return beckons me. The time we spend together is a welcome change to my plodding day-to-day life, as it is time we spend together. He has become entangled in my life and makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I do not have to resign myself to being stubbornly independent of others, that life with someone else looks pretty good after all.