“In true Adam fashion, he’s ambiguous on purpose in case my phone isn’t safe, but I know exactly where he means. The Harold Washington Library. The giant Gothic owls perching along its roof freak Adam out. He calls them spawns of Satan, mostly because he knows they fascinate me.”
“They flock to Navy Pier from places like Plainfield, Iowa and Hartville, Ohio, where I’m sure they lead normal lives. But here, they become hoarders of magnets and sweatshirts and shopping bags plastered with Chicago emblems. They eat Dots ice cream, take pictures of the new Lakefront mansions, and ignore the warnings about walking in groups fewer than four.”
“My dad used to say the view from our roof was the reason he bought the house. At night, the city’s skyline towers over our home, sparkling like Emerald City and shrouding me in commotion. A CTA rattles as it slides around the elevated tracks. A city bus squeaks and hisses as it stops to pick up passengers. A siren wails as a fire truck pulls out of its station a few blocks away. The city never sleeps, which is reas- suring. Out here, I’m never alone.” Original photo credit: Max Bender
“I follow the brick pavers that cut a path across our yard and imagine heavy clouds concealing the city’s height, lingering around the tops of buildings on Michigan Avenue just a mile or so in the distance.” Original photo credit: Wences Sanz
“Across the street, lights from the Chicago Theatre’s marquee burst through the dimming twilight.” Original photo credit: Travon Printis
“Behind the reporter, lights highlight the Water Tower as dusk sinks in.”
“A figure emerges, heading down the city sidewalk past a stone office building. Four American flags jut from its ledge over a row of giant revolving doors. My stomach makes a slow roll. I recognize him by the way he walks—it’s my dad.”
