I watched the clouds dissipate and a periwinkle sky deepen to indigo blue as life in this big city by the lake became luminous.
This is living high on the hog, 41 stories high.
Cars that once crowded Lake Shore Drive became glimmering, satin ribbons of energy in this City of Broad Shoulders. Buildings that once obscured parts of Lake Michigan and Chicago’s Millennium Park became a panorama of patterns to distract and entertain.
Chicago's Aqua Building (front and center) flowed with energy via some pretty fluid balconies.
I found the constantly changing scenery just beyond my son’s new high rise rental a welcome respite from the task at hand: constructing 7 pieces of modular furniture tightly packed inside 23 Ikea boxes.
 Four hours and 4,000 parts later, voila! a bed. |  The balcony came in handy for storing empty boxes. |
The steady hum of 2.8 million people squeezed into 237 square miles of prime real estate proved invigorating. It would have been easy to lose all sense of time and place in this small space (750 square feet) had the sun not been obsessed with a game of hide and seek with all the shadows dancing across the magnificent view.
Our own obsession finally completed,
Our own obsession finally completed,
I stepped out onto the balcony for another dose of daydreams as daylight took a back seat to the magic of dusk.
A sliver of Lake Michigan is part of the magnificent view.
It seemed a lifetime ago the world was my oyster/onion field (the word Chicago was derived from a Potawatomi Indian tribe, and means ‘wild onion’ or ‘garlic’).
I’ve always wanted a room with a view. The kids have scattered, the cat has exhausted his nine lives. The job that fueled all my hopes and dreams seemed part of another lifetime, as did the life and love and loss and laughter once so much a part of this now big, empty shell of a suburban home.
I’ve always wanted a room with a view. That’s my new mantra. Maybe when Ryan travels for work Jimmy and I can try his view on for size; fall in love with the magic of the city without the commute or the outrageous price for a room or parking. I believe the concept is called Vacation Rentals by Owner or HomeAway; not that Ryan's place is on the market. It just pays to have friends/family literally in high places.
I’ve always wanted a room with a view. The kids have scattered, the cat has exhausted his nine lives. The job that fueled all my hopes and dreams seemed part of another lifetime, as did the life and love and loss and laughter once so much a part of this now big, empty shell of a suburban home.
I’ve always wanted a room with a view. That’s my new mantra. Maybe when Ryan travels for work Jimmy and I can try his view on for size; fall in love with the magic of the city without the commute or the outrageous price for a room or parking. I believe the concept is called Vacation Rentals by Owner or HomeAway; not that Ryan's place is on the market. It just pays to have friends/family literally in high places.
It’s a tiny step (obviously, given all the people and places from 41 stories up were all rendered miniatures) in the right direction, one I'm hoping may generate some really
 A dog park for obviously very little dogs. |  This must be the baby pool. |
big dividends when it comes to securing our very own room with a view, somewhere, somehow, some day.
Such a warm welcome for Ryan, Chicago's newest lakefront resident.
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