Those flurries you saw floating from the sky this mid-April morning? They were not snowflakes.
Those were actually the frozen tears of Chicagoans whose greatest wish right now is to pack away their winter coats. (Read: send them to the dry cleaners and forget to pick them up until you need them again, say in September? More tears flow at the thought of any early cold snap in the fall.)
It begs the question: why do we live on this urban ice cube? The only answer is that we are all damned visionaries who see the beauty, charm, and goodness of this city. That really is the only possible reason, right?
It is only three weeks until the summer festivals and outdoor concerts kick off. Will the sun be here to greet us by then? Will tulips and trees bloom? Will the lake and buildings match the shimmer of the other?
If not, will we still turn out in the streets and parks for the music and food and community that keep us here?
My guess is that we will, even if we are donning jackets atop layers.
My hope is that my coat will be safely stored at the dry cleaner come Mole de Mayo.
My fear is that I'll need to pick it up for Lit Fest in June.
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