Valentine

I love Chicago. I say that a lot here, but I think I go through swings with Chicago throughout the year. I never ever hate it, but I think I'm constantly going back and forth between being madly in love and simply taking it for granted.

Before I lived in Chicago, I imagined the different ways people might live in a big city--maybe hating living in the hustle and bustle or maybe loving it and having the luck to take advantage of all a big city has to offer. But I don't think any of my imaginings were correct. Truth be told, living in a big city is a lot like living in a mid-size city or even a small town. It takes longer to get from here to there in Chicago, but otherwise, I go to work and come home and hang out with my husband and dog and do housework and read and cook and lead a life.

But occasionally, I look up from my life and realize that I'm looking at the Willis Tower (nee Sears Tower) or that my office is on Michigan Avenue or that the Art Institute is always just a lunch break away during my work day. And I am struck by the fact that the place where I live is actually a place where millions of people decide to go on vacation every year.

My home is also a destination.

So, I am in the midst, again, of one of those moments, wide-eyed, a little in awe, certainly, suddenly, in full bloom love with Chicago. I mean, look at it. Who could blame me?

Wow, right?

The hotel workers have been on strike at the Congress Hotel for over 8 years. I can't recommend it as a place to stay. But it has one of THE best marquee signs in the city--not just old, but an old version of what someone once thought was modern. . . which is a special kind of old that Chicago specializes in.

And this final blue blur of photo. . . the shake of my hand turning Chicago into a dream, and the rear lights on the back of the Metra car into tiny hearts.

Maybe Chicago loves me back. . .