Love Letter to Chicago
How I love thee. When first moving here, I was skeptical of all that you would offer me. I didn’t personally choose to move here it was a choice made with my husband so he could go to business school here. Therefor, it was more of an arranged marriage; however, I knew with some time I would grow to love you. And I did so much. Now, if we’re going with the marriage analogy, you are a polygamist at it’s finest, married to 2,896,016 people. So I guess you won’t miss me but I’ll miss you.
I’ll miss my morning walks through my cute Lincoln Park neighborhood. I’ll miss laying in the park and listening to the birds sing in the spring time. I’ll miss the silence and stillness after a huge snowstorm. I’ll miss the museums, skyscrapers and theater. I’ll miss the packed bars and friendly atmosphere. I’ll miss the architecture, the fabulous design shoppes and the history.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all love. We have had our fights. Like flying, you always seem to time a thunderstorm, tornado or snowstorm just as I take off, apparently testing my growing fear of flying (maybe you just didn’t want me to leave). Or the time that I practically drove to Indiana with absolutely no clue where I was, tears streaming down my face without my cell phone, knowing full well that it was negative 25 outside. Or when I would casually compare your temperature to that of Anchorage, Alaska where a dear friend lives, and every time Alaska looked downright balmy. And don’t get me started on your intersections; who planned this city?! Why are on Earth is it that most intersections consist of four streets intersecting. Have you ever heard of two? Or proper signage? Turning left is a nightmare. In fact, I can’t turn left. I’m like Derek Zoolander; I am not an auto ambi-turner.
But like all great relationships, in the end, I really only look to the good times: to the lazy walks along the shore line; to popping in and out of adorable boutiques on Armitage; to gazes out at an endless horizon on top of the John Hancock building, to sipping superb wine at comfy Webster’s Wine Bar, to my exquisite brownstone walk up apartment complete with ivy growing up the exterior wall, to your absolutely magnificent mile. You never seize to dazzle me.
One day, I’ll return for a visit, Chicago. You’ll likely greet me with a thunderstorm but that won’t deter me. My husband and I will revisit our old stomping grounds probably with kids in tow and we’ll tell them long drawn out stories of the good old days. The blissful first years of marriage. For you did provide bliss after losing my father, the most difficult time of my life. Thank you Chicago for giving me shelter and a needed refuge from all of the pain experienced in California. Sadly, I can’t stay at my refuge forever. It’s time to face a more empty home. But, I can do this with your help. You’ve given me the courage I needed to live again.
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