Today marks one week, officially, that we have been in Chicago. Most of the first week was spent sleeping, resting, recovering. Our animals are still adjusting, but doing well, all things considered.
It's late winter/early spring in Chicago. The snow is melting and the ground thawing. Last seasons dormant grass is brown and soggy. This morning there is a heavy fog limiting visibility to about a mile. Rain is predicted for most of the week. It's familiar.
Yesterday I took the Metra train into Chicago and walked east on Madison Avenue from the Olgivie train station to Michigan Ave. I walked two blocks south on Michigan Ave to meet Karla at the Art Institute where we saw the William Eggleston photo and video exhibit. This was particularly interesting to me because I listened to The Help on my iPod during the drive to Chicago, and both the book and the photos/video in this exhibit take place in Mississippi in the 1960's.
On my walk to the Art Institute, as I crossed the Chicago River, I paused a moment, in all that familiarity, and thought, "Why don't I feel more surprise?" "Why does it feel like I am just taking the twists and turns and bizarreness of my life in stride?" "When I left here for Arizona I thought I was gone for good? And, here I am, back where I have lived for 37 years..."
I told Karla that I feel like I am just taking my life in stride, each day as it comes. With no judgment or expectation, just as it is.
And, for the moment it is familiar.
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