It didn’t really hit me until today.
It didn’t hit me that I would actually be leaving Chicago. It didn’t sink in that I would be leaving Chicago forever. That I wouldn’t be coming back in just a couple of weeks, fresh off a sunshine-filled visit to LA. That I wouldn’t be seeing my apartment again, complete with painted trees and pagoda chairs. That I would never again sleep in my bed, or couch potato it up on the loveseat. That my Chicago life, now packed up so neatly in boxes and in transit to California, had hit the end of its chapter.
I mean, I knew it was coming. Interviews, match day, graduation, senior trip, bucket lists. Everything in fourth year was aimed towards leaving Chicago. At moving on. Yet, between all the graduation festivities and parties, I put off packing until the last 24 hours before I absolutely had to leave. Put off saying goodbye. Put off goodbye hugs. Put off transplanting my life in Chicago into a new start in LA. Put off tying up all those loose ends.
And now we’re here. And instead of running off into the glorious smoggy LA sunset like I thought I would be, I’m sitting here at Midway, trying to inconspicuously wipe away my tears so that my fellow passengers don’t think I’m absolutely ridiculous. Or crazy.
Because, for all our ups and down, I fell in love with Chicago. Fell in love with the people. Fell in love with my friends and classmates. I can say, completely honestly, that right now, right here, I am the happiest I have been in a very long time. I am content. These past two weeks have been a whirlwind of hanging out with friends, and I’ve noticed that I’ve lingered a little bit longer, came up with excuses to stay a while, found reasons to just hang out and be with each other, even if it was just to make tired “that’s what she said” jokes. Because these people? They’re good people. I’m going to miss their little quirks and big personalities, and I’m sure I’ll repeat some of their more memorable lines to the new friends I’ll make in LA, who won’t understand why I then dissolve into a fit of laughter. Get out of here. Hold the phone. And one.
And now my heart physically hurts, now that I’m just minutes away from boarding a plane that is going to take me away from them. I am content, and it seems misogynistic that I’m deliberately turning the page on this chapter, to start a new one. A new unknown one. A new one that isn’t guaranteed happy.
In the past, I’ve told people that if I had to do it all over again, I’m not sure I would have chosen Northwestern. Not sure that I would have chosen to go the HPME route. But today, looking back at it all, I’m here, and I would not be the person I am today if I hadn’t come to Northwestern. If I hadn’t met these amazing people. If I hadn’t had all of my crazy experiences - yes, Dr. Meanie Bikini and all. And that’s really thanks to my amazing friends. From undergrad with my girls in our sexy suite 434-5, JLM dinners, Yulee almost burning down our entire apartment building, to med school - with FUSION, being initiated into NUMYUMS, and restarting the BEAT, to just some fantastic karaoke nights and reading dates out next to the Bean…Chicago, you’ve been good to me. Real good.
Thanks for the best nine years a girl could possibly wish for. I know I won’t be able to stay away. Because, no matter what happens, no matter where I am, I will always feel a tether to Chicago – to the city that welcomed me straight out of high school, the city that saw me hiccup in and out of love, the city that let me grow up, this city that was the one constant during my not always predictable 20s. I will always look back at Chicago fondly.
Some say New York is their kinda town, but hey – for me, it’s all about Chicago.
