Chicago, I’ve Come Home…

Journeys and stories ahead at O'Hare Airport

I just landed at O’Hare airport in Chicago. Matter of fact, I’m standing at baggage claim, still waiting for bags to arrive, as I write this.

I was washed with emotions walking through the terminal. The people — they look like my people. The voices, in spite of me moving to Texas back when I was 15, have a comforting lilt.

I realized that so much of who I am was formed by growing up 60 miles south of Chicago in Kankakee, Illinois. My love of architecture. The reason I live now in a 93 year old house in a walkable neighborhood, instead of in Houston’s suburbs. My attitude. My demeanor.

Chicago formed me.

I feel like I’ve spent the last 3 years working hard to get back to who I once was. Breaking off the veneer. Embracing my truth.

I feel like I’m finally home in more ways than one.

There is one big lesson I’ve learned on this journey. It never ends. You have to choose to hold on to it, to continue to embrace your truth.

This past three weeks have been a journey in my car of over 5000 miles, but it took a two hour flight from Denver to Chicago to see how far I’ve truly travelled.