Today was my first official “I love Chicago” moment, a phenomenon similar to the overwhelming feelings I’d had in Hong Kong, interestingly enough called “I love Hong Kong” moments.
Here’s what happened: I’d just picked up Nutcracker tickets in the Joffrey Ballet building. The Macy’s windows were decorated with Christmas care, a homeless man was playing “Silent Night” on his saxophone for tips, and smoke lingered in the air from those standing 15 feet from the entrance. It was then that the tingles started and the goosebumps rose; I really do love Chicago and I am so glad my life brought me here.
The scene reminded me of the days of my youth traveling to the big city to see the Christmas lights with my family. Almost every year, our tradition was to ride the train in and spend the day shopping, sightseeing, eating at restaurants, and freezing our butts off. This upcoming Saturday, my family will take the train in to come visit me and we’ll repeat one of our favorite pastimes, this time adding A Christmas Carol into the mix. I’m thankful for my family, our fun traditions, and that I now can call myself a Chicagoan.