I live here. Just a few months ago I was living in my little bubble at Hope College, bouncing around from Caboose (our house), to chapel to the pinegrove to the library and back, being surrounded by my most favorite people everywhere I turned. The past few months I spent up in my beautiful hometown, where I saw my high-school friends and cousins whenever I wanted and I laid at Cedar Lake pretty much everyday. And now I live in Chicago, surrounded by big buildings and taxis and pedestrians and Lake Michigan. I live in my emerald city, that I am slowly transitioning to.
For the past four years, August has meant that it is time to move back to Holland, and this August, my move took me to Chicago. Yes, it is my favorite city, and I have been so eager to get here, but once I started to think about how I no longer live in the basement with Katy and Jackie, and I won’t come home to my housemates all in the kitchen, and that I can’t go to chapel Monday Wednesday Friday anymore, and that Emily’s room isn’t just down the street anymore, it made me sad. But we all moved away from each other, and all of our communities are looking a little different lately.
So that is where I am right now. In my little-but-cute apartment, missing my loved ones, but staying strong, and looking up. My first night in my apartment, I called Salome, trying not to cry. We talked and talked and prayed before bed, and I knew that God was with me.
My mom thought the move-in went smoothly, but I was not used to such a big move. We carried my stuff from the car to the lobby (in the sprinkling rain), to a luggage cart to the freight elevator to my floor, down the hallway to my room, in three loads. After an Ikea trip, table and chair assembly, a bed delivery, and a Target trip, I am all moved in. I’m learning the bus system and the el, (with the help of google maps and transit apps on my phone). While my mom was still here, we found ourselves at the beach, drinking margaritas, eating outside of every restaurant, and learning the ins and outs of my new street. She even stayed an extra night because the lock on my door broke for two nights, Saturday and Sunday, and wasn’t fixed until Monday at 1! Yes, my door wouldn’t lock, in my new apartment, in this new city. I was upset and sad and felt unsafe and uncomfortable, and my mom came to the rescue, staying an extra night, so I could sleep in the hotel with her.
Prayers through this transition !