I leave the plane and roll my case through the wide and empty Midway; home again. Back to the train, resplendent with the subtle smell of piss and two Coors Light cans half crunched and leaning along the wall near the last seat. Back to the hum of life at 2AM, the college kids downtown, the man shouting and shouting, the requests for donations. At my stop we’ll walk through the neighborhood full of rented spaces – just three blocks. Brief yet still the chill will work it’s way in to grip my spine before we reach the metal gate, and the scuffed stairwell, and my mewing cat, and the neighbors fighting in the rooms below. But not yet. For now there is only the wide and glowing city, stretching on and on to the west. And the ever-present lake, sitting just beside me to the east, coated in a thick and inky black.
January 3, 2012