Poor, But Beautiful

By: Dynasty Roque

In this city, I call home, there is beauty. Beauty like a coat of snow blankets the streets, covers buildings, and graces every corner of it. It is called Reading, not like what you do with a book, it is pronounced “Redding”. The people in this mystical land are a variety. All kinds of religions, races, and cultures. Walking outside, you can hear all sorts of languages. They fill the air with the feeling of diversity. It is an empowering feeling.

The people walk over cracked and uneven sidewalks that seem like they will never be repaired. Dilapidated buildings bring a feeling of sorrow. Why did they abandon you in this way, allow you to fall into this condition? Every single hour, church bells toll, signaling the change in time. Once you’ve lived here for a while, they are no longer a bother. You become thankful for them. After all where would we be if we didn’t know the time constantly? Probably late to a lot of important classes and meetings.

Garbage litters the front of houses and the streets, some of the items you find leave you wondering. How do some people manage to lose their shoes in the middle of the sidewalk and not notice? Who threw down all of the garbage from their takeout onto to someone else’s property and walked free of guilt? While I walk and see people purposely leave their trash behind, my voice yearns to reprimand them. Don’t they know someone else will have to pay for their laziness? The garbage can was right around the corner.

In one of the busiest places, parking spots are the stuff of legend. On some days, it feels that everyone in the city has decided to grace this place with their presence. The name of this fantasy land? Penn Street: the home to a pharmacy, what seems like twenty phone stores, an eye doctor, fashion stores, and a pizzeria. People walk quickly through the crowd. They are looking at one another, but not really seeing one another.

When I am walking on a typical Reading street, I hear conversations from inside houses and give my mental opinions on them. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, it just happens. In the middle of the streets, I see cars stopped, while other cars are forced to go around them. Is it worth making other people work more, just so you can talk to your friend hollering at you from the sidewalk? When the wind blows hard enough, you see plastic bags soaring on the breeze. They look so free. What does it take to feel so free?

From my bedroom window, I see the graveyard on the hill. It has a lot of graves and beautiful trees that look like guardians. There is something like woods behind it. I have spent many a day wondering what goes on in that graveyard when nobody is looking. Anything supernatural? Maybe magical? At night, the Pagoda sheds some light on the dark environment, but still I see nothing. One day, I want to walk through those woods and touch all of the trees I possibly can. I want to lay flowers on a random grave and whisper a rest in peace. I believe when that day comes, I may cry. Why did they have to go? Were they scared? How did their family feel? Tears will be shed in the honor of a person I didn’t even know, but I feel like I do.

To outsiders, we are nothing more than one of the poorest cities in Pennsylvania. The way we go through our days are weird. Maybe, too weird. To some people, this city is insignificant. If this city is unimportant, why does it make my blood boil when people speak badly about it? This city is my home. The broken streets help me get to where I need to go. The abandoned homes are like landmarks, telling me if I am almost to my destination. The garbage is a constant reminder that we really need to clean up our act if we don’t want to live in a dump. Maybe this city could use more money, but money will never replicate the character of this place. It may be one of the poorest cities, but it is also one of the most beautiful cities, I have ever been in.

So I implore you. If one day, you have nothing to do and a car full of gas, come to Reading. Come feel the diversity, the sorrow, and the character. Come see how beautiful it is. Maybe, you could even visit me and tell me about your beautiful home. You may just learn something about yourself, like I do all the time. It truly is a wonderful place and I am grateful to live in this city called Reading.