When I first moved to Chicago I hated it. Hated!1 It. My best friend had lived here2 and was moving back to Philadelphia. This just happened to coincide with the city of brotherly love and I experiencing the seven-year itch. So with just a few weeks notice my friend Clint and I drove3 my stuff out to Chicago in a red rental minivan.
For the first few (or nine) months I was pretty miserable. I arrived in what was an exceptionally rainy fall, which quickly led into the longest, coldest, snowiest winter I had ever experienced. I can’t blame my attitude completely on the weather, but it sure was a good excuse to mope around.
Now, five years later I’m kind of (surprisingly) enjoying living in Chicago. It’s not home. I won’t be here forever. But with a few good friends it ain’t half bad.
true friendship (by sister reba)
The two fellows in the middle of the picture are my first two roommates in Chicago. They’re pretty much the best ones a girl could ask for. Photo taken at Bonny’s, of course.
_________________________________
1And I am not one for unnecessary exclamation points. I was not a fan.
2So I had visited quite a few times and thought I loved it.
3Actually he did all the driving, as I don’t now, nor have I ever had a drivers license.
