Dandelion Wishes [guest]

Look across the street from my home and you’ll see what made me want to write tonight: a little black girl and a little white boy face one another on the steeply slanting front lawn of a Pittsburgh home. She holds a dandelion, makes a wish: "I wish I had a dog". She blows on the tufts of white seed, and passes it on to the boy.

Pan out just a little to the sidewalk with the Asian, Caucasian, African American walkers, friendly joggers, and post office customers, the residential slopes of Greenfield, the black hats and long skirts of Squirrel Hill. Make the steep descent into Hazelwood or across to Homestead and the banks of the Monongahela with its history of Pinkerton strife and the long-gone thick red dust of Furnaces 6 & 7 whose tall black frames still scrape the sky. Or roll down to Beechwood Boulevard or straight to Forward and fly westward on the spirit of 376 past buildings and trees, trees, trees all the way from East Liberty up and coming to the Hill District down and out of the city at Brady, out, out damn spot where the cars pile up under the bridge abutments, and sometimes I think I'll die down there when the night falls and traffic subsides and all that's left is graffiti and concrete. Overhead the road I love to travel opens with a panoramic view of Uptown cares and Downtown moves pushing school, government, peace & social justice, Steelers, Penguins, Steelers, Penguins, and then the heart of the city, the Golden Triangle lights up all twinkling at night with the thousand starry light bulbs and bridges of Pittsburgh, the most livable Pittsburgh. I am home. Born here. Returning here.

Thanks for the dandelion; I'll make a wish for you.



Rachel Luckenbill has recently relocated from Lebanon, PA to Pittsburgh, the city of bridges and steel and the city where she was born. She likes heights, Penguins ice hockey, and meeting new people, so the new living arrangements are working out quite well. She spends 70% of her time reading and writing while studying for an English PhD at Duquesne. In the other 30% she’s exploring, conversing, sleeping, and eating.