I am not happy with my co-workers; those 2 that were out part of last week with colds. I don't get simple illnesses like colds very often - I get the weird, unheard of things, like an allergy to sesame seeds that suddenly has me worrying about the bun my hamburger comes on. Nevertheless, I woke up this morning with a pounding headache, stuffy nose, and chills. With my luck, I'll feel like crap all day today (Sunday), and wake up tomorrow just fine. I have things I want to do today, and I would be fine staying home in bed tomorrow. Hopefully the "cold & sinus" pills will allow me to feel well enough to at least finish cleaning house.
I have to clean house because I received an email last week from the owner of my lovely 12th story condominium, asking what day would be good for an appraiser to stop in. Two thoughts immediately entered my brain - the first being "oh shit I have to clean the house", and the second being "oh shit why are they getting the place appraised". Having an excuse to clean is not a bad thing - I need an excuse more often. But having an appraisal done when I'm 3 months from the end of my current lease is worrisome. Are they selling it? Are they raising my rent? Are they booting me to the street just months from my planned return to Alabama?
I wrote back as cooperatively joyful as I could muster, saying "sure no problem Monday would be great!". And oh by the way, I am really hoping to be able to stay on a bit longer....hint hint. Thankfully the response was that they love having me here and are sure we can work something out on the lease. Whew. I really would hate to be forced into a move only to have to move again in a few months. Besides, moving is expensive and finding a suitable place as wonderful as this one would be a pain.
It's really hard for me to believe I've been here in Chicago for almost 2 years. My original plan was a 2-3 year stint before moving back home, and I've talked with both my current and former bosses, and it seems that a return is in the plan for late this year, if not earlier. Great. Fantastic. Home. But....but......I love it here. So it seems my choice is to stay on another couple of years in a different role that would give me even broader experience before returning, or to stick with my conviction of moving back to the bosom of my family and friends in the South. It's a truly difficult decision.
When I embarked on this grand adventure of leaving all that I have known my entire life to experience life in a foreign land (well, foreign to me), I was certain that 2 years would be all I could handle. It wasn't so much the hills and rivers of North Alabama that would pull me back, it would be family. I've joked for years that my kids couldn't manage to be very far away from me as they seemed to follow me wherever I went. When I moved to Huntsville, here came each of them. And until they were both married, I threatened to put a revolving door on my house, because if one was moving out, the other was moving in.
Even though they were out and on their own (finally), we were all still within a few minutes of each other, and I really thought that being hours apart would quickly wear thin. The truth of it is the hours are not that many, and I still see them often, and they love coming to visit Chicago, if not me. And now the 2-3 year adventure is coming to a close and I'm uncertain. Can I go back to the country life where there are no skyscrapers and trains and food of every imaginable type and actual professional sporting events and concerts and shows and all of the things that are available whether I can afford them or not?
I dream of a house with a dog and a cat and a garden and flowers and trees and a porch with a swing and a view of the mountains. I dream of Saturday morning coffee with Lacy and Sunday evening dinner with Seth. I dream of having my grandson and future grandchildren running around me playing games and baking cookies and learning to quilt or knit or crochet just like I did with my grandmother. I dream of having a happy place and being the fun gramma that everyone loves to visit.
When I dream of my future life and my slow-down years, there's no Michigan Avenue or elevated trains or Willis Tower or Wrigley Field. There's no city outside my door, only grass and June bugs. There's no exploration of man-made architecture, only Mother Nature's. I love this city, and it has given me so much that I never would have had. In years to come, it will still be my city to share, if only on short trips. There are so many other places to visit and enjoy, but only a few that I know and love and that feel a part of me - Gulf Shores, Auburn, DeSoto State Park, and most of North Alabama. And, of course, Chicago, Illinois.
Will it be hard to go back? Of course. Will I miss this place? Definitely. Will I feel that pull in my heart every time I hear "Chicago" in the news or see a movie with a familiar backdrop? Absolutely. Will I remember my time here fondly as I mow my yard in 95-degree humid hell? You betcha. But I know where I really, really want to be, long-term, and it ain't here. I'll make the best of the time I have left here, and skip home with a smile on my face, and in my heart. :)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
"blow, blow thou winter wind.."
Snow. Magical, delicate, beautiful snow. It floats past my window this Saturday morning adding to the inches already pushed aside by plows and shovels down on the street and sidewalk. Winter has finally come to Chicago, making as delayed an entrance as summer did last year. Earlier this week the mercury was pushing 60 degrees, and this morning it was 14 when I awoke at my usual 5 a.m.
I've come to realize that I'm a winter person. Not the wet, messy, cold-but-not-cold-enough-to-snow winter of my native North Alabama, but the oh-so-cold and blustery winter of this mid-west mecca. Donning boots and scarves and down and hat and gloves to make a simple trek of 3 or 4 blocks can be exhilarating. The cold wind seems fresher, the icy particles in my face are invigorating, and the warmth of returning home for hot chocolate to ease the chill is a treat not so enjoyed otherwise.
Winter days also invite quiet, reflective time inside, whereas summer days make me feel I should be out, doing, going, "enjoying". I'm more an inside, quiet kind of person. Reading, knitting, stitching, painting are winter activities, and things I enjoy much. Not to mention that if I am out on a winter day such as this, there's a different beauty to the trees, the river, and even the buildings shrouded in white. There is as much laughter of children in the park as there is in summer, although muffled beneath the layers of wool.
Of course there are down sides just as in summer - the piles of snow on the streets turn ugly and gray with soot and slush in time, maneuvering is tricky on foot or on tires, frozen toes and fingers and nose are fun only so long. Nights are long, and sunlight rare, and eventually the cloudy skies become depressing. But there's always the promise that Spring is coming; it may come later here, but it does come.
I saw a quote, something like "walking on snow makes me feel like I'm walking on clouds", and thought how nice it is to see a positive remark about winter. Not the "now is the winter of our discontent", or the "winter of our life". But, then, the winter of discontent is turned to summer by the "son of York" (from Richard III), and the winter of our life is followed by the eternal light of heaven. It doesn't have to mean a dark end of days but instead can mean a time to enjoy.
Even "old age" should be as much a time to enjoy as the spring of youth, and for one watching the leaves of autumn begin to fall, I can't see that my life is any less remarkable. There is still much to experience and learn, and it is done with so much more understanding of what's important. Any obstacle is just something to get around or over, not a reason to stop. Winter is just a different season, with beauty of its own, if we stop looking at it as something to dread and rush by like a cemetery, reaching at us with bare-branch fingers to hold us in its cold grasp.
I would not relive my youth any more than I would relive last summer, knowing I couldn't change anything or do anything differently. And so I would not miss this winter any more than I would purposefully miss whatever is left of my life. I will not go into the winter of life fussing and moaning about the cold and snow and wishing for it to be over soon. Or that I could skip it altogether. All seasons are wonderful, joyous times with their own flavors and scents and lessons, whether we're talking weather or life.
And now I bundle to brave the winds and snow and cold - must get some milk so that I can make that hot chocolate to enjoy when I get back from getting the milk while braving the cold so that I need hot chocolate to warm me up.
I've come to realize that I'm a winter person. Not the wet, messy, cold-but-not-cold-enough-to-snow winter of my native North Alabama, but the oh-so-cold and blustery winter of this mid-west mecca. Donning boots and scarves and down and hat and gloves to make a simple trek of 3 or 4 blocks can be exhilarating. The cold wind seems fresher, the icy particles in my face are invigorating, and the warmth of returning home for hot chocolate to ease the chill is a treat not so enjoyed otherwise.
Winter days also invite quiet, reflective time inside, whereas summer days make me feel I should be out, doing, going, "enjoying". I'm more an inside, quiet kind of person. Reading, knitting, stitching, painting are winter activities, and things I enjoy much. Not to mention that if I am out on a winter day such as this, there's a different beauty to the trees, the river, and even the buildings shrouded in white. There is as much laughter of children in the park as there is in summer, although muffled beneath the layers of wool.
Of course there are down sides just as in summer - the piles of snow on the streets turn ugly and gray with soot and slush in time, maneuvering is tricky on foot or on tires, frozen toes and fingers and nose are fun only so long. Nights are long, and sunlight rare, and eventually the cloudy skies become depressing. But there's always the promise that Spring is coming; it may come later here, but it does come.
I saw a quote, something like "walking on snow makes me feel like I'm walking on clouds", and thought how nice it is to see a positive remark about winter. Not the "now is the winter of our discontent", or the "winter of our life". But, then, the winter of discontent is turned to summer by the "son of York" (from Richard III), and the winter of our life is followed by the eternal light of heaven. It doesn't have to mean a dark end of days but instead can mean a time to enjoy.
Even "old age" should be as much a time to enjoy as the spring of youth, and for one watching the leaves of autumn begin to fall, I can't see that my life is any less remarkable. There is still much to experience and learn, and it is done with so much more understanding of what's important. Any obstacle is just something to get around or over, not a reason to stop. Winter is just a different season, with beauty of its own, if we stop looking at it as something to dread and rush by like a cemetery, reaching at us with bare-branch fingers to hold us in its cold grasp.
I would not relive my youth any more than I would relive last summer, knowing I couldn't change anything or do anything differently. And so I would not miss this winter any more than I would purposefully miss whatever is left of my life. I will not go into the winter of life fussing and moaning about the cold and snow and wishing for it to be over soon. Or that I could skip it altogether. All seasons are wonderful, joyous times with their own flavors and scents and lessons, whether we're talking weather or life.
And now I bundle to brave the winds and snow and cold - must get some milk so that I can make that hot chocolate to enjoy when I get back from getting the milk while braving the cold so that I need hot chocolate to warm me up.
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