From the Top of Chicago

Fourteen hundred feet above traffic and tourists, Chicago is entirely different. It is vast, its power and influence exaggerated by the cluster of mega structures glistening in the sun. It is colorful, alive, an efficient system of curving drives and smooth trains where everything fits together just so. I feel pleased and all looks as it should. Looking down on Chicago, I feel hopeful and energized.

Atop the Sears Tower, I touch the clouds and look across the metropolis. From fourteen hundred feet high, how easy to imagine life in this seemingly perfect city. Everything sparkles and gleams. I want to run my fingers between the streets and explore every crevice and possibility. I want to wrap my arms around Chicago, breathe it in; I can't get enough of it. Living in such a glamorous city would be a dream, and how grand life could be.

I could live in some Grant Park high rise, spoiled with lake views and skyline views, my life forever sunny and bright. I'd write on my exapansive terrace, never without inspiration or insight. I'd own a sailboat, every weekend full of lazy breezes, fireworks, and champagne. I'd dine with celebrities, shop with designers, and vacation whenever I wanted. I'd never battle wind or traffic or pollution or tourists. I'd never compete for jobs or tables or tickets. Life would be so perfect, so easy.

Chicago convinces us dreamers that we'll find what we're looking for in the shadows of its grandeur. Perhaps I moved here to live out that dream, to live amidst the city lights and iconic structures. I convinced myself I belonged here, while at the same time wondering why nothing ever worked out, never stuck. I ignored universal truths about myself that would ultimately leave me unsatisfied. I tried so hard to see everything Chicago did for me, without realizing all it did not do for me. Deep down I knew that my dream-life in Chicago was flawed.

Most of my time in Chicago, I merely treaded to keep my head above water. Based on some worn-out illusion, everything I did was a vague attempt for a life I didn't really want. I only saw what I loved to distract myself from the obvious fact that my life was largely unfulfilled. No matter how I looked at Chicago, no matter how hard I tried to revamp my life, I would never find myself.

It took a stroke of luck and the chance to see my life somewhere else that finally convinced me to leave Chicago. All at once, my challenges in Chicago made sense, my life here a stepping-stone and not the final destination. No longer fourteen hundred feet above, life is about to change, and I can't wait to start living it on the ground.