My kind of town
Every summer my California-loving family goes back to where we are all came from and head for the Midwest. Chicago. Although we still play Ferris Bueller for a few days and hit the sights downtown, we go there to be with our huge, loud crowd of relatives. Almost everyone I am related to lives in Chicago.
We house-hop while we are there, jumping around between a few houses. Last year, I shared a room with my baby cousin. Every night I would tiptoe into the room and try to be quiet for her and in the mornings, she would stand in her crib and try to be quiet for me too and eventually I would wake up to her just staring at me, as if I maybe didn’t really exist or something and then she would just laugh and laugh when I sat up, with my hair chaotically doing its own thing. It was always early, 6 or 7 in the morning, but worth it in every sense. It is good for the soul to wake up next to a laughing baby. It really starts the day off right. And in a sea of a thousand relatives, it was my littlest one that reminded me of this.
Somehow these trips have come to define me; no matter how long I have been gone from there it is like I never left. I keep learning about love from these perfectly full and wild visits and my family teaches me about who I am and what I am made of. Chicago is a city filled with people who have taught me what I am capable of. And they make sure that I never forget that although my heart may be left in San Francisco, Chicago is still my kind of town.
posted by Mary @ 10:16 PM
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