from the memoir

Sometimes I think I see you in the sky: not bird-like but sky-like, sky-lined, a world of windows with lights on. Tonight, it’s the way the city sparkles as I drive that makes my mind turn to you. It’s easy to do here. Not because this place reminds me of you as much as it reminds me of the possibility of you. Not possible but what was once possible. This was the place of our dreams: Chicago.

We said we’d build a life here. Careers and kids and walk-in closets. It was here where we were supposed to exist. Together. Always. Forever. Instead the skyline taunted us with its windows and vacant memories of dreams instead of realities, and I found myself alone in my car, driving the expressway, listening to the radio, always thinking of you.