And then comes the day after all of the holiday hubbub when you’re at the gym trying to work out, and that Tony Bennett song comes on and you remember walking on State Street, that great street. And you close your eyes, but you’re not in Chicago, you’re in Cumming, Georgia. And the suburbanites at the Y are looking at you funny, because you’re walking in between treadmills with your eyes mostly closed trying to imagine you’re somewhere that you’re not and attempting not to cry.

And you make it all the way outside and you’re sitting in your car, thinking now—NOW I can cry a good cry. But the soccer mom next to you is sitting in HER car and it’s just not far enough away. So you make it all the way home and you sit in the garage, the dark garage in your car (you have a garage now–isn’t that weird), and you cry a nice homesick cry for the friends you miss and the routine that’s no longer yours, and even your favorite little cafes and whatnot. Yep, a good homesick cry.

And then you pick yourself up and you go get your mail and you find a little something from a dear friend in Chicago and it’s perfect. Lovely and perfect. And everything’s gonna be okay.

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