Dear Chicago

Dear Chicago,

I am laying awake using wireless internet on my laptop that must be plugged in at all times to distract myself.  I have been gazing dreamily out my window at you for the last half hour.  You are beautiful.  You’ve completely romanced me, Chicago, you old rascal you.  I’m looking at your streets glowing slightly orange and your sky threatening to snow, and I feel wooed. 

My instinct is to be in the moment; I don’t want to think, Chicago.  If I’m having a good time and you’re having a good time, everything is as it should be; we’ll figure things out as they come.  It would be fine by me to just have a blast and then when it’s time for me to go home we can talk.  And then I’m sure one of these things will come up: Chicago, maybe this just is what it is.  I’ll go back to California and  I’ll see you around, maybe for a layover or a visit.  We’ll smile at each other and say “We’ll always have Illinois!”  Or maybe, Chicago, the timing is just not quite right yet, and I’ll go home for a while and then later, when I’m ready to leave home and you have an apartment open up that is magically affordable and wonderful, we’ll see if we want to give things a shot.  But just maybe, Chicago, our adventure isn’t over.  Maybe I should just stay put and let everything else sort itself out so we can keep having fun. 

I’m thinking aloud at this point, Chicago.  I’m not going to know the answers for a while, but I am starting to doubt my ability to make this decision alone, so I’m just throwing this out there.  Letting you know what is going on in the back of my mind.  I don’t want you thinking too hard about it though.  For now, I’m going to soak you up and we are going to have a blast.

Sweet Dreams, Chicago.