Within less than 48 hours we will be leaving Chicago. For… a long time. I’m not going to say forever, because perhaps it won’t be forever. And no, we’re not leaving because of COVID-19, although that has sped up our move- a lot.
We were supposed to move in two weeks, but now it’s happening tomorrow. This was all decided within the last twelve hours and let me tell ya, it’s been a stressful wave. We’d prefer to stay at home and self quarantine as we’ve been doing, but we feared that in two weeks we might not be able to leave, which could really affect our buyer planning to move in, and if she couldn’t move in, what would happen to her home where someone else is planning to move into? Somewhere along the lines, someone could be left without a place to stay and that’s the last thing we want right now. It felt like a terrible domino effect in which no outcome was a good one, but we had to choose the least awful, and we had to choose fast. Which means we are leaving Chicago on Thursday. We’ve been speaking to our movers frequently and we’re going to do this as safe as possible given the circumstances- so lots of sanitizing and hand washing and trying to be efficient as possible. It’s by no means ideal, but nothing feels ideal anymore.
I won’t go into much detail at the moment because I’m just a wee bit busy trying to pack up our home in 12 hours and also because I’m on the verge of a meltdown and tears at any second. Damnit, just typing tears makes them fall.
Even though everything feels really scary right now, I will say this move is for the better. I’ve always had this urge to live a lot of places and we’ve been here for nearly a decade, so that means we need to get get going, right? But why? whispers Chicago, the city I love so much… I know, I know.
Winters aside, I really do love this city. It has been so good to me. It forced me into situations far beyond my comfort zone, introduced me to people who were nothing like myself, which in turn taught me to be more empathetic to others and situations that were not like my own, and SO MUCH MORE. In short, Chicago made me less of an asshole. *except for my driving, in that respect I’ve gotten a little worse.* But I even love the aggressive drivers here. I really do because the zipper method works and Chicagoans know this! A honk isn’t rude, but instead a polite way of saying get going, dumbass.
But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, it’s time for us to move. We’ve gotten comfortable here and so we must dive once more into the unknown.
When things calm down I’ll explain more and write 100 more love letters to this city, but now is not the time. Now is the time to clean out drawers and cry in the shower. Jk. Kinda.
This move is for Chris’s job and it’s one we chose. We’re going to make a pit stop in Nebraska to see family and hunker down for a bit, but that’s not our final destination. Our final destination is somewhere a little bit sunnier (or so I’m told.)
And on that note I just heard a ten second honk outside, so I guess Chicago is telling me it’s time to get going, dumbass.
Stay well, friends. We will get through this.
We will get through this.
We will.