Chicago anniversary

Yesterday was the eleven year anniversary of my move to Chicago.

I went to the library to try to write about Chicago and my relocation here, looking back. I also brainstormed a list of other ideas for posts, including the theme of independence.

At our house, we are dealing with my daughter’s burgeoning independence. I know better than to regret that she’s no longer a baby, but instead insists on taking off her own shoes, figuring out her problems on her own. I relish it and she cracks me up and I literally sit on my hands so she knows that I’m letting her do it herself. On Saturday, she told me, “did it!” for the first time after working on a challenge. Her pride was well-earned.

I shake my head and chuckle to realize that my husband and I have brought such an independent and ambitious person into the world. Just like us. Karma. She is intense and determined and it almost hurts to watch, but I feel so strongly that her independence is best served by allowing her to try again and again once more. She is proud and I take care to help her understand that we love her even as she figures things out, all the while worrying that the same pride will keep her from admitting she needs support.

So, Chicago, this is where I am eleven years later. I came here to start my own life, separate and away. But now I understand independence in my heart.