To my dear friend, Chicago

Dear Chicago,

It feels weird writing this letter. It hasn’t fully set in yet that this is the truth. But it is. And we will live, learn, and grow from this experience (we’re also allowing ourselves to be a little cheesy in this post so that’s fun). And what is this truth you may be asking. The truth is that this will be my first summer in my (almost) 23 years that I won’t be able to enjoy your beauty. But as they say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

There will be no last minute plans to meet up at Oak/North/Montrose Beach. No excitement of taking the Metra down to scope out the beach scene that we will camp out there for the day. No hopping on the red line to catch a baseball game at Wrigley (sorry south sider fans). No going down to Michigan or State and having some treat yourself moments. No strolling through Millennium or Grant Park, and becoming a tourist in your own city. Taking a picture in front of The Bean and pretending like you don’t already have a million of them from over the years. No waking up at the crack of dawn so you can drive to the Aquarium/Adler Planetarium where everyone knows that’s where the best view of the skyline exists.

There will be no racing down the pier at Navy Pier watching the boats go by from high above on the Ferris Wheel. Stuffing my face with Deep Dish Pizza, Italian Beef, Portillos and The Rainbow Cone. No avoiding downtown like the plague when Lollapalooza comes around. No getting to embrace how much of a melting pot Chicago truly is when all the different street festivals start occurring. No going to The Blues Festival thinking you’re going there to see Aloe Blacc but instead jamming with The Wailers from Bob Marley & The Wailers. No grabbing your bike, rollerblades, dog, friends, etc. to take on the miles of trails along the lakefront. No taking in the truly amazingness that Chicago is.

And though I am sad about this time apart I know we will be reunited again someday. Keep being your beautiful self Chicago.

She is always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when you passed through last time.

Mark Twain

Until Next Time, The Library Abroad