My husband is excited. We are standing in an overpriced penthouse apartment that he thinks will be just perfect for my recovery in Chicago. I look out the window at the sweeping skyline views and I think about how lonely I will be up here. Then a cloud floats by and I think of angels. As in, I’m not ready to sprout wings and be with the angels quite yet, thank you. But I say nothing to my husband. He is so happy right now.
I have been taking my anger out on my husband recently, for being a flawed human being. I really should have married that perfect, flawless man that doesn’t exist anywhere. Then I really would be lonely.
I’m really mad at myself, not him, and I think he knows it… at least on some deep level when I’m not wanting to throw things at him. If you thought this was going to be a journal about bunnies and gratitude, you may have come to the wrong place.
So I turn away from the view in the clouds and ask if we could take another look at the apartment on the lower level. It was the first place we looked at on our quest and I knew immediately that this was the place where I wanted to recover. It is located at the fork of the river and I can see boats and barges and actual people that don’t look like ants.
The skyline rises up all around us, instead of under us. I feel a part of life.
The minute we walked back into that lower apartment, my husband got it. He gets me. We both knew we would never close the blinds, wanting to wake up and go to sleep feeling like a part of the city.
The city that has the hospital and the doctors who are going to make me well again. Maybe then the only thing I will want to throw is a big ass party.
This is the view from our new apartment in Chicago, located near the bustling River Walk area.