Chicago
Now the that countdown of days until we move is in the single digits, the fear is starting to set in.
What if the movers are late? What if there's not enough work to keep me afloat? What if no one sits next to me at lunch? Ok...maybe that's the least of my worries but the thought of leaving Chicago has been sad and nostalgia-inducing. We came to the city with no jobs, using internet cafes (remember those?!) and enjoying our unabashed free time exploring restaurants and neighborhoods. Our view was a peek of the Lake and the southern city skyline; glorious light and voyeuristic opportunities. Nick and I grew together and met new people that changed our lives.
I will miss sitting at Wicker Park's fountain, the endless sea of interesting people to stare and point at during street fairs and the many fond memories of my niece soaking herself silly from the spitting bears at the playground (they spit water, people). To my loyal friends I've shared this fine city with over the years - you will be sorely missed. I've also had the privilege of spending a lot of time with my dad who moved to Chicago last Fall. His adjustment has been a fruitful one with a position at the
MCA (he'd love a visit from you!) and lots of time to paint.
For now I crave some sort of semblance of consistency that doesn't involve trekking five flights of stares (our elevator's out of commission - again), vomit at our front entrance or explaining to a street person why I don't have $20 to give them. Yep, they're brazen here.
Ann Arbor
I've been hyper-romanticizing the lushness of Gallup Park, the sleepy hum of cicadas in the summer and easy strolls along Main Street and Top of the Park. I haven't forgotten the drunken stumblers along State or the rowdiness of South U. I look forward to reliving my youthful memories of North Campus and paddle boats on the River. Heck, when we get a car maybe I'll even fly over the speed bumps at Huron for old time's sake.
In 1998 I remember leaving the School of the Art Institute, packing up my dorm and leaving on an Amtrak. I cried watching the skyline growing smaller and more distant. I didn't want to admit defeat or tell myself I wasn't going back. But I knew I wasn't (for financial reasons, art school is damn expensive)! Little did I know that not would I be returning six years later, but to call it
home for seven. Since my career will no doubt meander with my interests, I'll be back time and time again. So truly, this isn't about saying good-bye, but more so about appreciating all the moments that we get. As an homage to Chicago and my dear, sweet friends, this week's posts will be dedicated to all the beautiful moments and imagery that have touched me over the last seven years. Thank you for being my friend.
