I loved the bite, the flavor of the city; it was a sort of watch-your-back deep-dish pepperoni-pizza-pie existence. I remember lying snug in bed, the window just behind my head open, the cool air and the sounds of the city drifting in as I drifted out.
Chicago will always be home to our family; our oldest girl took her first steps on ancient vinyl tile up on the ninth floor. On a clear day, we could watch sailboats on Lake Michigan, and hear trains speed by on the way to the Loop. We ran errands on foot, freezing our buns off in the winter, and soaking in the sunshine of spring. Chicago was ours.
My heart ached when it was time to move on; three years sped by. But before we left the city, I found a book at the Chicago Public Library that perfectly captured the vibrance, the rhythm, the cacophony of city life.
The book: "Listen to the City" by Rachel Isadora. City sounds, scenes, and pop art to boot. A perfect read for city kids (and those who wish they were).
