Just got back from a whirlwind trip to Chicago for the weekend. There and back within 36 hours. I wanted to visit one of my best friends from college. We don't get to see each other often (for obvious reasons) and I always take advantage of the small collisions of our overly busy schedules when we can play.
Today at work everyone wanted to hear about the sights I saw, which restaurants I dined in, and if they could see pictures of the trip. They looked at me quizzically when I reported that I hadn't gone to the Sears (I can't call it the Willis) tower of even snapped a shot of my reflection in "the bean" at Millennium Park. I couldn't recall the names of the places we ate dinner of even the intersections we crossed on an early morning walk.
I silently reprimanded myself for not paying better attention; for not savoring every drop of Chicago. But then I realized I didn't go to learn which streets populate the city grid or to taste how their fish tacos differ from the ones I get in Nashville. I went to see my friend, to spend time in fellowship and laughter. I've grown and learned so much since high scool, since college, since my first attempts at "adulthood" in DC. Along the way I've cried over mean words hurled at me by so-called best friends, reveled in the warmth that comes from a well intentioned hug, defined myself through friendships. I have a handful of really great friends, and I wouldn't trade them for any tourist attractions or snow globes in the world.
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