My Dad loves Chicago as much as I do, maybe even more.  His Dad grew up on the South Side and some of my favorite memories as a kid are of them recounting times they had in Chicago together.  My Dad passed their love of the Windy City down to me by bringing me here as often as possible when I was young and it totally worked-  my love of this city borders on obsessive.

When I’m on my way to or from work, wandering around or doing something fun, I’ll sometimes snap pics on my phone and send them to my Dad.  Judging from his email responses (the above pic was deemed “the best one to-date” this morning), I think he gets a kick out of seeing what I see every day.  We don’t get to see each other as often as I’d like and I love this way of connecting on that day-to-day level that, as adults, most of us don’t get to have anymore.  I’m very close with my father and living in Chicago makes me feel even closer to him, particularly when we’re talking about one of the pictures I’ve sent.  Shared vantage point, I suppose.

I also think he likes getting the photos because he knows where his little girl is and that she’s safe (I don’t think I’ll ever get too old for him not to worry about that).

Chicago has always felt like home, in that down-in-your-bones, 100%, deep-breath-kind of way, even before I lived here.  Maybe that’s why- because Chicago was home for my family way before I was ever a part of anything.