The skyline might have changed. Millennium Park certainly had not existed. But there still so many things I remember about my hometown, even after more than twenty years abroad. Returning awakens the memories of how the summertime smells of cut grass and coming rain. Pizza. Those cement sidewalk stamps at the corners just before the curb. The beat of Chaka Khan. Old Style signs. The friendliness of wooden sports bars, despite the oddity of patrons. The deafening roar of the ‘L’. The grandeur of South Michigan Ave. The lost history of the West Side. How the streets disappear eastward into the blue. The street art of Pilsen.
I did my best, but could never quite nail it as my friend Carrie Welsh, whose native eye and technique is much more honed.
It is always a reflective time to return home and see how some things change and some things never change: