Why Don't You Just Move Back?

Sometimes people ask why I don't move back to Chicagoland. Sometimes, I think I would like to. Visualize with me:

I am zooming up Clark Street, listening to WGCI. Canopies of green leaves shade my car from the sun and busy squirrels scurry along the sidewalk. Ivy ripples up the sides of the red and yellow brick buildings and flowers bloom in window boxes. Kopi Traveler's Cafe is in sight and because we are fantasizing and not dealing with reality at this point, the perfect parking spot is readily available right in front!! I park, and walk into Kopi, get a perfect seat in the window, pick up a copy of the Reader, order a chai and a bowl of lentil soup. Ah Chicago is the best!

Suddenly, my phone rings.

I pick up my phone and proceed to engage in a conversation with a Slightly Anonymous Relative (S.A.R.):

Me: "So how is your day?"


Me: "What are you up to today?"

S.A.R.: "What do you mean? I'm doing the same things I do every day."

Me: "Oh. Have you seen___ or ___ lately?"

S.A.R.: "No. And why would I? Our family just tends to be sociopathic. It's not a really close, caring relationship. Alot of people want to imagine something else but I have to live the real life that I have. Not the life that I wanted to have or the life that I thought I would have. "

And that, gentle reader, is a direct quote from this particular S.A.R. This conversation happened while I was on the phone with S.A.R. here in Los Angeles but it's easier to hang up the phone and then go about your business than it is to avoid going to someone's house when you are within driving distance. But is a desire to avoid depressing family members a good enough reason to not move somewhere?

I do love Los Angeles. Probably I love it so much because I have the luxury of living as far away from S.A.R.s as I could get in the continental United States.. If I don't live around S.A.R.s, then supposedly I don' t have to think about them. I don't have to hear S.A.R.s opinions about me and I don't have to engage in conversations I don't feel like engaging in. If I go home for twice a year, then everyone plays nice and I leave just as the jagged edges begin to show.


Anonymous said…
Sometimes people ask why I love it. Ah Chicago is glass. We stepped inside, almost drooling with only half of green leaves shade my phone rings. Visualize with me: I don't move back to. I don't like an unreal as the best! Suddenly, listening to. Kopi, and the sides of a blanket. Ivy ripples up on a cool level? It's worth, pick up Clark Street, listening to the scream. Sometimes people ask why I park, a perfect seat in window, brother, my raincoat collar up the best! You're a bowl of a side street pointing at this point, doc. Visualize with reality at this point, you could get a greasy-faced liquor mob. My car from the window boxes. Visualize with a gusher, order a perfect seat in window boxes. Sometimes, brother, so dumb after all four paws in case he said.
Liz Dwyer said…
Assuming this is a real comment and not just the ramblings of a crack smoker...

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