Chicago

Chicago is the first place on this trip that felt like a city the way I think of cities — tall and loud and indifferent — and I find that weirdly comforting. You can disappear in a place like this. There was a stretch of my life where that was all I wanted.

We walked out toward the lake and for a second I forgot it was Lake Michigan and not one of the lakes from back home. The evening light was doing the exact thing it does in Minnesota, flat and gold over the water, and something in me went tight and homesick and I didn't say anything about it. Ethan noticed though. He always notices, ya know. He didn't make me explain it. He just bumped his shoulder into mine and said, "Hey. I'm right here."

That's the whole thing, really. That's the part I'd stopped believing existed for someone like me. Somebody who stays. Somebody who's right here.

We got deep dish. Ethan picked up a slice like it was a normal piece of pizza and ended up wearing most of it. Watching him try to recover his dignity took a solid ten years off my life from laughing.

Tomorrow we cross into Minnesota. I've been quiet about that one. I'll write about it when I can.

— J