While my geographic sabbatical has been good for my headspace it has also literally injured my head.
It was 72 degrees in Evanston, Illinois on July 17th, the occasion of my 72nd birthday. Considering we had just spent three days traveling from fiendishly hot, muggy Florida, the temperature felt like a birthday present from the divine. In a long dreamed about retirement-living experiment, we rented a one-bedroom apartment for three months to be near my son, daughter, and their families. Despite the exhaustion from endless hours of hauling, lugging, and organizing needed to line our new nest, I’m in love. We can see the Chicago skyline from our barely functional Juliet balcony and a sliver of Lake Michigan through the tree scape.
A lot of rooftops but the Chicago Skyline in the Distance
A Sliver of Lake Michigan Visible from our balcony
This geographic diversion is just what my psychologist son prescribed for my grieving spirit struggling to cope with the recent loss of a beloved friend (of course helping entertain and schlep his children was also an impetus for my son’s vested-interest prescription.) The striking juxtaposition of youth and vitality with aging ailments and death has helped me step back and observe the stages of life without bitterness.
Rosie (dog) loves slumber parties with her BFFs
But back to being in love. I have lived in parts of Central and north central Florida for all my seventy-two years. It’s almost embarrassing to admit that fact. My adult children have each lived in three or four different cities as they pursued their academic degrees. And they voted never to return to their Florida roots, a point of contention for their mother. I’m not sure why I never left. Maybe it was my memories of the sweet scent of orange blossoms and the salty scrubbiness of the landscape that pre-dates Walt Disney World. I love the casual, unfussiness of the lifestyle and being a life-time member of the barefoot club (which, of course, caused permanent calluses and multiple Morton’s Neuromas creating havoc with aging feet.) Maybe it was facing turning 72 that made me decide it was time for a change.
Aging research has determined that engaging in things novel and new is healthy and good for the brain. Three weeks into our stay, I’m as excited as a youngster over my new experiences. I haven’t lived in a one-bedroom apartment since I was 22 and single. It feels like we are playing house as my husband and I scrounge for cooking utensils and spare pieces of furniture. I happily take my laptop to one of the five coffee shops within walking distance of our complex to write. An “L” stop is a four-minute walk from our home. Twice in the past week Jim and I traveled on the “L” downtown to the Art Institute and the Northwestern Medical Center. Aside from enjoying the cultural enrichment, we were proud of ourselves for navigating the Chicago transit system.
Second Day in Evanston we hopped on the “L” for the Art Institute to see the Frida Kahlo exhibition on it’s final day
My senses are alert to the differences between my northern and southern lives. My eyes hungrily absorb the Chicago skyline with its iconic skyscrapers and unique architectural styles. The red maples and elm trees look different from the ferns and palms in my hometown. While I love my Florida salty coastlines, the vastness of the great lakes is fascinating. Bird sounds are even different from those I left behind. (Let me be quick to note that of course, I’m in Chicagoland during a season when the foliage is still green, and birds still make their homes here.) And they have a major league baseball team! My birthday present was an afternoon Cubs game against the Red Sox. My grandson educated me about #4 PCA (Pete Crow-Armstrong), the Cub’s phenom centerfielder. I like being a part of pop culture. It’s youthful.
A day at Wrigley Field
The other unexpected pleasure is the love. I am filled up with contentment being in proximity with my peeps. Visiting a place is different from settling into a place. I’m spending time most days with my ten- and eight-year-old grandchildren. They are still at an age when they enjoy being with us. My son and daughter-in-law are so appreciative of our help that I’m wondering why it took me so long to make this decision. Probably money.
While I do believe my Evanston sabbatical has been good for my head it has also literally hurt my head. More about the concussion and road rash sustained from a bike accident in my next post.