Sunday I walked home from writing class at Second City, up the beach and bike trail. Not all the way home - I was dropped off about halfway. But it was a long walk. Usually, I ride my bike or take the train. But Sunday I felt like taking a different pace, and a different path.
I worry that I unthinkingly fall into patterns and routines and don't expose myself to all the great things city life has to offer, and don't give myself a chance to see all the thought-provoking, creativity-inspiring, and just plain fun things Chicago provides.
That's why I moved here, after all. That's why I left all things familiar, the only home I'd ever known, and a comfortable professional life - to explore new things, and find unforeseen opportunities. If I made the choice to subject myself to the anxious uncertainty of a totally new life, I should be more mindful of enjoying the advantages of this decision.
So I walked. I called family on the phone along the way, chatting and catching up. I stopped for water. I paused to gawk at cute kids, and talk to people about their dogs. I watched fisherman flop big wet scaly monstrosities on the grass by the lakeside.
One thing I wouldn't have learned had I not taken that way home: popular bait among the Montrose Harbor fishermen, as they try to nab Lake Michigan's finest finned flappers includes crickets, hot dogs, pizza chunks, and Cheetos.
(Yeah, I started out all poignant and reflective, and then took a sharp turn into Cheetos. How ya like that?)