It was a warm October afternoon when the heat of summer still teased the air and the green on the trees seemed to cling to every brief second before fall. The grass under my feet was lush and the clouds overhead made wispy feathers in the blue. I made my way to the top lounge of Billings: that place that looks like an abandoned pipe organ and sat down to munch on my expertly made sandwich and take in the peace. Looking up into the rafters as I tossed my last pickle in my mouth, I began to take notice of the actual construction of the building. The rafter seams do not match up evenly, one window on the back side is blurred more than the other, and the fireplace inset is off center in the ceiling. I also took note of some cracks in the walls, and some water damage to the paint on the left wall, and the railing posts didn’t mix or match in any pattern or symmetry.You might ask what the point of being so critical of a building could be. However, one wouldn’t usually see a building like an elderly veteran of life. His ribs are bruised and poorly healed and his nose doesn’t quite line up any more. One eye doesn’t see so well nowadays, and his gnarled fingers exist for function now, with little flair left. His skin is cracked with sun, and his cheek stained with a grief long passed, and yet still he remains with boldness. This old man is a testament to those who designed and built him, for their endurance and resilience are reflected in its crevices and faces; becoming an embodiment of the human legacy and spirit. Though many have perished and seasons passed in the supple and ever-changing environment, Billings presses on with a face of stone to the windy gales of time. One should only hope to age as well as Billings has, despite its stone crawling with old vines, yet still full of so much life and surrounded by it as well. Perhaps all these flaws are to say that survival isn’t perfect, and if we play our cards right, we’ll see the future anyway despite our own imperfections.