Rob and I are a thousand miles from everything we know, and never in my wildest dreams did I think that we'd be so far from home. Minneapolis was never on my list of places to live, and Chicago wasn't even on my list of places to visit, and yet, standing there in Millennium Park with my hand in Rob's, looking at myself in the reflection of the sculpture, things suddenly felt like they were exactly the way they should be.
We stopped for a delicious lunch at Primehouse before heading back home. We got burgers with truffle fries and I had a Bloody Mary. Rob got an "Over Drive," which was a carrot-orange-ginger juice with vodka. It came in a cute little carafe and it was so good.
I'm obviously not that adventurous if I think that spending a weekend in one of the United States' largest cities is some kind of defining moment, but something happened while we were roaming the streets of Chicago. The weather was perfect and the sky was bright blue and I shed a bit of anxiety. I felt a bit more like myself (or maybe just the person I'd like to be), and I felt even more thankful for this man--the tall one who isn't afraid to drive in traffic--and for this life we're doing together.