There’s a cool breeze rolling through Chicago tonight and I sit here thinking about leaving indefinitely.
Whenever I sit and contemplate what it means to relocate I keep coming back to the idea that it’s impossible to know what it’s like until you do it. Relocating your life is going to be a very different experience depending on the point in your life in which you do it. Sure, if you moved last year and you’re moving again this year, there may be some continuity between the experiences.
I’ve lived here for roughly seven years now.
Before my five in California I lived here my whole life.
Idling down Damen Avenue, the throughway that’s connected each of the apartments I’ve lived in while here, my eyes hopscotched back and forth across the street in front of me, from one storefront to another, one restaurant to another.
These places are all places I wonder if I’ll miss. I can’t always tell if my nostalgia at the forefront of departure is inflating my attachment to the places that make this city unique, tasty, and interesting. Probably a bit.
There’s no question about some. Mac’s American Pub, our relationship is infinite.
I do know, without question, that all I can think about when I ponder my appreciate, adoration, and love for this city is the people in it.
This place full of places is full of people who really look at you.
People who listen, and smile, and laugh, even when things are tough.
The friends I have here are everything to me.
Every corner of my experience in Chicago is painted with the faces of a hugely long list of wonderful, interesting, supportive, hilarious men and women that I have to leave now. A group of magnificent human beings that I feel privileged to call friends.
You’re my childhood friends. My college friends. My co-workers. My soccer friends. My blogger friends. My twitter friends, craigslist friends, facebook friends, and music scene friends. My nightlife friends.
My oldest friends, and my newest friends.
I will deeply, deeply miss all of you.