A new condominium appears on the horizon, inching above the scores of other such dwellings in my hometown, soon to be an eyesore at 55 floors high, the tallest in our city, so far. Appropriately named The Sky.
The first high rise came when I was just a teen. With shaky legs my friends and I would venture to its roof to be wowed by the view. At 24 floors high, this was dizzying to us bungalow dwellers.
My first apartment was at the nauseating height of two floors. Still, I enjoyed seeing the tops of trees and bushes. It was kind of interesting to look down on things. Later, I moved half way up our high rise and this is far enough. Gee whiz, I don’t even like flying, so to have my body many yards up off the ground as a living arrangement is a stretch.
However over time I appreciate things that land dwellers can’t. Storms rolling in from miles away. Beautiful sunsets across the hills. Canada geese fly right by my balcony in the fall. No bungalow dweller gets this! And I have the best vantage to watch fireworks on notable holidays.
Yet, I look out and now see the ‘tower’ being built and realize it is about to set a precedent. Eventually there will be so many my building will look like a bungalow!
As we move up I appreciate the sentiments of a construction worker who penned this on a new condo:
