Tonight I rode my bicycle home from work at 9pm, along the cold, dark lakefront.
In the last few weeks I've gotten rid of all my stuff. I gave away my clothes and my books and my records. I sold my furniture on craigslist.
I sit on the floor and bounce Rooster's tennis ball against the opposite wall of the empty apartment. I can't tell if he digs the empty space, or whether he knows a change is coming.
Next week, after 7 years of yuppie habituating, I will move out of my old Uptown apartment, and into a frugal unknown.
A yearling safari from my mortgage is an idea I've thought about for several years.
Now I'm 30 years old. Except for my dog, I don't have a family. I no longer have a girlfriend. I think now is my best time to shrug-off the comforts and the boundaries my own apartment.
To shove-off, and explore Chicago and all of its parts, for whatever they are worth.
Now I'm looking forward:
To new places and new neighborhoods. To spending a lot of time in Kyoki - my red Honda hatchback, and to accumulating the means and the freedom to live and travel wherever I please.
As I reduce the things in my life, I'm grateful for two of my stalwart Chicago touchstones:
My family, and my job.
Its good to know I'll always have a place to stay on the north-shore, and that I'll always have an exciting project downtown. Whatever I have in my life, I'll never be homeless or idle.
Tonight as I rode my bicycle down the lake path, lights blinking in the crisp darkness. I passed Belmont harbor and stopped to admire the 10 or 12 old Sailboats still floating at their moorings.
Looking out at their masts and hulls in the nighttime I consider their holdout owners. Its almost November, and late in the year to still have a sailboat in the water.
I seriously imagined myself a year from now, maybe living aboard an old sloop of my own. Exploring Lake Michigan as late into the autumn as I'm able. Sleeping at anchor, enjoying the purple and yellow lights of the skyline buildings. Alone, on my own private island in a Chicago harbor.
