Rooftop Reverie

I’m sitting up on the rooftop deck (and yes, that song “Up on the Roof” is running through my head). It’s April 1, 83 degrees outside, and no, that’s no April Fool’s joke. It’s the first true taste of summer, and as soon as I was home from work, I was up on the deck.

The wind is a bit awful up here, though. I thought I’d try to capture a little Vitamin D before the sun went down, to try and blast out the rest of this throat infection (strep, how I loathe you). But the sunshine that beckoned all day through the windows of the 64th floor, and bathed my arms as Christina and I made a cupcake run at 1:30 (yes, that’s right, we made a Sugar Bliss run—mmm), has since retreated behind the clouds.

It’s still warm, though—luxuriously warm—and the views are amazing. Here I sit, smack dab in the middle of a cityscape. (How I will miss this when I move.) In the pockets between high rises, I can see quainter neighborhoods off to the west. And the beautiful lake to the east—she’s all shades of green, aqua, and blue today.

[Here's Bill disturbing my thoughts. It’s always a bit awkward when you’re a thousand miles away in your reverie, just writing, and someone you know snaps you back to reality with a simple hello. I always wonder if I look like I’m a thousand miles away, as I imagine I do, which should be your cue to just keep moving. Anyhow, Bill never fails to say hello when he sees me. So, we chat for a few minutes. He’s on spring break and I can tell that he’s been outside all day—the early spring sunshine having tinged his shaved head a light shade of pink. Bill’s a nice guy, but I’m relieved when he heads back inside without his usual invitation to grab a drink later.]

It’s on days like this, up on the rooftop in downtown Chicago feeling like I’m where I’ve always wanted to be that I start to wonder where, exactly, I will end up. Right now, I want nothing more than to be right here. Even as I struggle the constant struggle to find myself, and wonder where my life will take me, and what may be waiting beyond Chicago, I can’t help but sense opportunity here. And to feel that it’s the place for me, despite my struggle to keep up with the rat race (how often I feel trapped in the spinning wheel), and to enjoy the city on a strict budget. My conscience keeps telling me to relax and be patient, that I need to give it time. I have such big plans for myself, and somehow, I want it all to happen for me right now. I guess all I can know is that Chicago is right for me in this time and space. I really do feel that I belong here now. I hope that I will belong here for much, much longer, but sometimes it seems so impractical, so expensive...

Anyhow, weird where the mind goes during an hour on up on the roof. The wind is dying down now. My freshly cut bangs aren’t flailing quite so helplessly in the breeze.