Sweet Home Chicago

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but this weekend was the first time Chicago really felt something like home.

Friday night I got home from parent-teacher conferences at 7:00 and the fun began. I got to go to The Second City to see their mainstage show. Honestly, this is a small dream come true in and of itself. I absolutely love Tina Fey, Steve Carrell, and others who started there and have been intrigued by improv/stand-up since my Jerry Seinfeld fangirl days as a little kid. It was absolutely hilarious. They definitely used the annoying political jokes as a crutch, but all the other more original stuff was great. Part of me wants to quit everything and do that with my life. And then I remember that I'm not that funny. And that I have a bad case of stage fright. So I'll stick with admiring and laughing at those who are.

Saturday is really when this whole love affair with Chicago set in. I woke up and my roommates were gone and had the day/apartment to myself. I had hot apple cider and toast in my pajamas and watched some netflix as I woke up. It was bliss. There I was, sitting in the apartment that I pay the rent for myself, eating food that I bought myself, enjoying a weekend off from the real adult job that I actually do myself. I know that sounds horribly narcissistic, but to finally realize that you have some note of self-sufficiency after 23 years of being a kid/student dependent on my parents to keep me alive, that felt pretty good. Let's be honest, at the first sign of car trouble I still call my dad for advice. At the first stage of planning a trip I get my mom on the phone for plane ticket tips. When I need a copy of my social security card scanned and e-mailed to whoever needs it, Lord knows my mother helps me out with that stuff to this day. But just knowing that I'm not a completely helpless brat made me feel somewhat accomplished. Like I had somehow earned the right to sit down and be lazy for two hours on a Saturday morning.

My lovely view from the couch.  

Since I made a really drastic decision this summer to run a 15k (SERIOUSLY WHAT WAS I THINKING) the first weekend of November, I thought I'd get off the couch and get a long run in when I finally had some free time in the daylight. To start things off, it was absolutely beautiful outside. Perfect 50 degree fall day. Changing leaves and all. I set out and decided to just go for a long time. That's the only plan I had. The first few blocks in my neighborhood were full of friendly waves and "good afternoons" to passersby. Very Sesame Street.

So I set out and headed downtown from my apartment and ended up on Michigan Avenue. This is where Millenium Park, The Bean, the face fountains, The Art Institute, and the weird-only-legs-statues reside. Those are a lot of my favorite touristy Chicago things, and I have often made entire special trips to downtown Chicago to enjoy those things specifically. (No, I won't ever get sick of taking pictures of myself and friends in The Bean. Sorry.) As I jogged and weaved through crowds of people who were there for these very attractions, and enjoying some people-watching as I meandered, it hit me: I'm not one of them anymore. I used to be the one planning the hassle of getting downtown, wearing "sensible" shoes for walking, backpack in tow, to see all of these Chicago attractions. Now I was just a girl who left her apartment and happened to pass these things on her Saturday morning run.

I never thought I'd have that true this is home feeling while living in the city. Looking back, I guess that's a silly notion because I lived in a city across an ocean where I didn't speak the language and I fell in love with that. I guess I just always thought I'm a hick Wisconsinite at heart and would never feel exactly right as a city girl, but I do. Maybe I'm neither. Maybe I'm both?

I've written about this once before, right as I was ready to leave Spain for home again after living abroad for four months. I'm starting to get that same feeling about Chicago, the people, the places, the food, the whole vibe. When you keep your capital-H-Home (for me, that is the Lord) with you all the time, your home travels with you and becomes wherever you go. These places you inhabit become a part of who you are. They stay with you, and you with them. It's crazy, too, because the real estate that Wisconsin, Sevilla, Trinity, and Chicago and the people that go with all of those places have staked out in my heart just makes me swell up with love for all of them so much more. You'd think that you'd spread yourself thin by reaching out to new people and new horizons, but somehow it's made my heart stretch that much bigger. That stretching is not free from growing pains, of course. I have my moments where I want to run back and start it all over, closing up the doors and claiming my spot on Main Street in Cedar Grove once and for all, but that feeling always passes to give way to a larger peace that settles in. I don't know how to even put it into words so that it makes sense.

I'm not sure how I got here to this place, but whatever it is, I'm happy to be here. And to feel that feeling here. To feel like home.