Last night I returned from a nostalgic trip to Chicago with my mom and sister. The city was fascinating, big, shiny, beautiful, and busy. We had choices of every kind of food imaginable. Anything you could ever want was within walking distance. I was in awe of the architecture, the art and the culture of the city. It was very crowded. The streets were full of people in business wear. Mom and my sister and I stuck out like nerdy tourists in our brightly colored clothing. At first I was self conscious coming off the train and trying to blend in with suits, skirts and sharp shoes. But the closer we got to the water the more color we saw. The people were beautiful. I have never seen so much beauty in one place before. The faces, never really looking at me, were light, dark, pink, yellow. The hair was long, curly, straight, slicked back, curly, swept up. I was so intensely distracted from the people watching, I nearly walked into the street. At each corner there were 20-30 people waiting to cross, thankfully, or I could have wandered right out into the sea of vehicles. I thought I would see more on their phones, but there was a lot of conversations going on. I caught phrases of each as they passed by me. A few homeless were screaming loudly or singing, but mostly the conversations were simple and lovely. People discuss the holiday weekend plans of traveling or camping, lots of business talk, sometimes to their ear piece as they were walking alone along the crowded sidewalk. As the lunch hour ended the street thinned out and we grabbed a train to a different part of the city where the streets were perfectly manicured and the shops all had summer patios with tables and chairs and the smell of coffee and pastries and French and Italian cuisine tempted our noses. I could have walked those streets for days and never gotten bored. The green vines growing up the buildings, the styles of all the homes with their teeny tiny front flower gardens were so pretty to gaze at. On the train, you could see into the apartments and office spaces of the upper levels of the buildings and I found myself curiously jealous of the modern furniture and beautiful interiors of those gorgeous, tiny, spaces.
Yesterday as we drove home through the the winding, tree laden roads of Wisconsin and Minnesota I found myself longing for the flat, wide, open spaces of my home state. The closer we got the more at peace I felt. Shortly after arriving home I took a little walkabout around the acres of garden, grass and yard that we are so blessed with.
And so I will remember the city with fond thoughts and beautiful photos. But, my heart is here. The farm is where my home is and you know what they say...there is no place like it.