The Tree Outside My Childhood Home
Before starting college I lived in the same little green-roofed house, in the same little neighborhood (Andersonville) of the same big city (Chicago) my entire life.
While I could have (and looking at my college loans, I think should have) stayed in that home for another four years until eternity, I moved in to the dorms my freshman year. My sophomore year I got an apartment with a couple of friends, one zip code closer to that green-roofed home. My junior year- a different apartment, a little closer to home. Senior year, same situation. After graduating, I almost returned to my little room in the little green-roofed house, but instead I did what my parents considered the next best thing. I moved in to an apartment in the same zip code as my parents.
I love Chicago and I’m proud to be a native of the magnificent Second City. But I also had this pull toward other places. Seattle, where I visited for a grand total of three hours in my teenage years, became my Orlando equivalent – Book of Mormon the Musical reference – and almost anywhere I visited felt like a place I could make my home.
I was bit by the wanderlust bug. I needed to get out of my home city and I needed to live somewhere else.
There is another person who was affected by my desire. My boyfriend, who I lived with in that apartment in the same zip code as my parents. We discussed it and decided to move to his home city-- The Twin Cities.
But before this move, before moving all of our worldly possessions (admittedly, mostly books) we went on a trip. 8 countries, 19 cities, 2 months in Europe. We planned it so our stuff would be in storage in the US while we traveled and could have it waiting in the Twin Cities when we got back.
This blog is going to be many things, but for now it will primarily be a mix of edited journal entries from that two month trip and posts about my transition to this new set of cities.
So hello. Happy you are here to experience this beginning with me.