This is the tenth year I have lived in Chicago. In my time here I have learned more than I ever did in 16 odd years of schooling. More music, film, art, and life has come my way than I ever would have imagined. I am in debt to so many people for the life lessons and the help I have gotten in my time here.
As much as I have experienced the depths of hell I have reached the summits of heaven in my journey through time and my wandering among the streets of this town. No place has shown me as much beauty, as much ugliness, or as much awe as this city has inspired in me.
Once more it seems I will be resuming my travels in the world of mankind. My tenuous stay here as come to an end in a way I would like to have changed but have no control over at this point. I no longer feel the wanderlust of my youth, the push to search out for the new, for I have learned that the new comes each morning with the sun and is old again by the time the moon caresses its shoulders.
One night, less than a year after i came here, I stood staring at the falling snow on Wicker Park (then a predominately Latin neighborhood) as was struck with fear and the urge to run away again (as I had from so many other places). But I stayed here for many reasons.
This city will always be in my heart, it was the birthplace of my daughter, the shelter of my transition from a young man to whatever I am now at 33. But in a handful of days I will see the sun set no longer on windy streets, and the winter will never again bite at the skin of my ankles like a dog.