It’s been weird these last few days . . . or weeks. I’m not used to spending this much time away from my family, my responsibilities, my making . . . I find myself enjoying the time, but then feeling guilty for it.
Every morning is the same, and I Love it (sometimes). I wake up early, stretch and shower. I pack my lunch, and head out the door just as the sun is rising. In Chicago it’s earlier, in Atlanta I wait a bit to see the sun before I head out. Either way, it’s gorgeous. I walk a block, turn, walk another four, taking in the shops of the city, the shops I hope that will come visit me here at the Chicago Gift Market. A few have in the past (Paper Source, Francesca’s) a few might not ever make it the 15 minute train ride down to the Mart (Anthropologie, Free People) but I still marvel at their windows, their accessories, their message. I walk on.
I can hear the train rumble on its tracks as I get closer and closer to my station. While I can’t see it, I know it’s there. There are a lot of things like that in the city. Like, benches. I want to take a break, stop and take all of this in without just looking like a tourist stopping in the middle of the street to soak. But, the first outdoor seating I find is taken by two homeless men still sleeping from the night before. I marvel at their bravery. I don’t pity them, nor am I scared of them. I just acknowledge they are there and don’t interrupt their slumber.
At last I arrive at my station. Stairs. Stairs Stairs. Atlanta had escalators at every turn so stairs are almost (almost) a welcome occurrence. The train station is above ground, even above above ground and the sun is rising behind the city and it’s beautiful. It’s amazing. It’s breathtaking. There is dew and a bit of rain most likely on the benches here, but I don’t care. I will dry, or I won’t. I sit and bask. The train rumbles and unlike in Atlanta, I wait to rise. The train isn’t going anywhere without me. There are not hundreds of people waiting for this train at 6:35 am on a Saturday. No, there’s just me, a sweet girl on the bench 100 feet to my left, and the sweet sweet sun on my left. We board, and the train is filled with light and windows and possibility.
May I never be in the city long enough to ride the train into (or out of) the metropolis and not open my eyes, not peer out the windows showing you what you’re about to face today. The opportunities are endless. The possibilities forever. And I plan to watch my forever with eyes wide open.