When people ask me where I’m from, I make it a point to emphasize that I do not live in Chicago, but 25 minutes north of it.
I was born in Chicago, and my family and I lived in the South Loop until I was about five. I was surrounded by beautiful parks and landmarks, and every free day I would impatiently wait for my dad to take me and my sister to somewhere wonderfully exciting. There was Museum Campus, which housed three museums and Soldier Field; Chinatown, where we would sit by the Chicago river and picnic; “train park” where I would sit on the swings and watch the freight trains chug by; and Millennium Park, which felt as big as the entire world. Living in the city for five years, it felt like I had experienced a whole lifetime of experiences, sights, and people. However, all of this was so long ago that it doesn’t even feel like the same life, and my memories of it are like dreams when you’re half awake in the morning. But I loved it, and I love to remember it.
I live in the North Shore now, and I would never say I live in Chicago. Where I live is like a beautiful green bubble. It’s safe, predictable, relatively calm, and objectively rich. I spend most of my free time in Wilmette and Evanston – the towns that my house borders – enjoying the beach, taking walks on the tree canopied sidewalks or the trail next to my house, meeting my friends at boba or Portillos at least once a week, and occasionally going to the mall.
However beautiful the suburbs were and however privileged I understood I was to live there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing out on something bigger. Visiting my family in Manhattan almost every year only made that feeling stronger. Each time I stayed with my cousin on 72nd and Amsterdam, I felt a sharp jealousy – she could step out of her apartment building and immediately be immersed in a palpable energy. It wasn’t just the constant motion or the towering buildings that captivated me, but the variety of life unfolding all at once – different people, different languages, different stories, all colliding on the same streets. Even though I didn’t know anyone on these streets, I never felt lonely, as they were filled with so much potential.
As a restless and somewhat angsty pre-teen, I convinced myself that it was New York City or nowhere. I seemed to have forgotten for a long period of time that a different – but equally dynamic city – was a train or car-ride away. It was only when I got older and more independent that I started to understand how much Chicago had to offer, far beyond what I remembered as a child.
Driving through the city – which is much larger than just the downtown – I could clearly see the texture of the cityscape morph from neighborhood to neighborhood, and same with the feeling it gave me. Devon, one wide street that was the center of Little India, was void of homes and filled with all sorts of Indian and Middle Eastern bakeries, restaurants, and saree and jewelry shops. I started to visit this area once a week to help resettle a family of refugees from Afghanistan, who are now thriving independently. Go five minutes south, and things turn Swedish; I love to spend time in Andersonville, marveling at the galleries and dusty vintage markets. The homes on each street have a distinct feel– some are colorful with the Chicago signature bay windows, some are unusually shaped brick townhomes that nonetheless feel warm and inviting, and some are towering courtyard buildings. And in the downtown area, my musician friends and I became regulars at Andy’s Jazz Club and the Jazz Showcase, listening with awe and elation to the passionate players. Of course, I also go back to the places that I cherished as a child. The Art Institute inspired me to immerse myself once again in creating art and take AP Studio Art senior year, and my best friend took me around Chinatown to her favorite restaurants. I went back to the Macy’s holiday window displays on State Street, and as my dad I lamented that the cheap new dioramas looked nothing like they used to, children from all over the city and outside of it ogled at the snowy wonderlands.
Rediscovering Chicago infused me with imagination and passion when the suburbs 25 minutes north of it had me feeling indifferent and small. Leaving the city when I was five made it unfamiliar to me, but as I get to know it better, I’m excited by all that I have yet to discover.
Comments