From a mentally stable person
  1. The city is dense with concrete and freezing grey and I asked my parents at 13 if living here was a conscious choice. I feel why as the train slips by the salt box buildings.
  2. I am determined to see the architectural beauty that sketched my dream of being an architect and share my lil girl impressions of this power house city and it's grand edifices and fantastic food
  3. We walk 9 cold blocks to Millenium Park and my kids and husband act as if they are on a death march and I wonder if I am on a fools errand
  4. We arrive and it is a futuristic sculptural wonder and the mirrored bean with its layered endless perspectives echoing the smooth overlaying facets in my head. We are cold but we are inspired. On the arching bridge scaly like a fish the glacial blue stark ribbon foils the wondrous cascading ampitheatre.
  5. We eat at a drab chain and I am disappointed, this is not the gilded escargot of my youth. I cannot sleep here in a giant booth resting on my mothers lap.
  6. The children are desperate to return home to grandma and grandpa's, to them it is a perfect gift, to me it is a deep reflective well but I think they don't know
  7. My dad struggles to find us at the train stop, the simple things are getting harder...
  8. It is right near the bakery my mom used to buy me black and white cookies and cinnamon pecan loaves we would toast. I insist we grab the kids something. I am a toddler there again peering through the sparkling glass at all the bakery jewels. Perhaps, they can nibble at my youth.