a stellar smashing

It is with deepest regret that I now inform you of my impending departure from your windy streets.

You have been a dear friend these last eight months, welcoming me with love and adventure and startling discovery as you did. I am grateful to you for the many things I learned this year.

I want you to know that I’m going to miss you.

I’m going to miss your dark alleyways, with their decrepit dumpsters stacked like crooked teeth, and your streets, with the trash tornadoes twisting at the curb, with squealing taxis and gutsy cyclists. I’m going to miss Lake Michigan, your heart and soul, and the beach where I lounged in your sand. I’ll miss your urgency, your need to GO, and the way your people move. I’ll miss your transportation systems and their unannounced delays, your constant, heavy smell of smoke and exhaust and grime. I’m going to miss my little pocket on State Street, my favorite corners of campus, the cozy coffee shops on side streets.

I’m going to miss the moments here where I knew just exactly who I was and what I want my life to mean. I’m going to miss the incessant inspiration, the need to nearly always write and feel. I’m going to miss falling in love. I’m going to miss falling into friendships. I’m going to miss fresh faces and sidewalk strangers. I’m going to miss who I am when I’m there with you.

I’m going to miss the really late nights of long talks under blankets and the early coffee-clutching classes, trying hard to stay awake. I’m going to miss blown-out umbrellas in the rain and creamy snow globe scenes that bring waterlogged boots and pinched-pink cheeks. I’m going to miss afternoon naps on my cornflower blue comforter, with the city right outside my blinds wanting so much attention. I’m going to miss writing in the park, lying in the sun on the first days of spring warmth, stealing glances at the blue stretching lake and wishing I could really reach so far. I’m going to miss clavicle kisses and painting experiments on the floor of my dorm room. I’m really, really going to miss you.

I’ll be back, of course, and hopefully the discoveries will be new and different then.

Goodbye for now,
Naomi