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In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.

In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.

To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....

Monday, June 27, 2011

Will Chicago Ever Recover?

For the past several weeks I have, of course, missed my friends pretty much constantly.  I have also missed my city--Chicago is just an awesome place to be.  But lately I have been missing even the strange people I saw only rarely and who, undoubtedly, don't know or care that I am not currently there.  I'm talking about the people I saw constantly but knew not at all--the Starbucks people, the dry cleaners, etc.  I miss them.  And I worry that, without me, their businesses will go under.

I'm actually only half-joking.  I have no illusions that I was keeping these businesses afloat.  But it is easy to see how this long-standing economic crisis keeps plugging along.  I am, clearly, far from the only person who finds herself cutting back on non-essentials.  There are very few who I know who haven't been touched by the economy today.  And, as a result, people cut back on pedicures and ice cream and highlights--all of the fun stuff in life.  And then the people who provided those services are touched by the economy and THEY cut back on stuff.  And so on.  This is all stuff that you know, of course.  I just find it fascinating to think about the personal relationships that I had acquired over the years and how those are missed dearly as we;;.

Take, for example, my esthetician Marta.  In essence, she does facials and waxing and stuff like that.  That's right--I miss the wax lady.  Marta is a freaking genius.  Even a friend who didn't at the time live in Chicago made sure to get to Marta when she visited.  She was a wonder with the wax.  But more than that, she is an awesome person.  Marta has family near mine, she has hopes and dreams and she is generally just a nice person.  Plus she told me dirt about the people in the city that she encountered, the stories about which would make your toes curl.  I miss Marta.

When I headed out, I didn't get to say goodbye to Marta.  Or the Japanese couple who ran the dry cleaners.  Or the barrista at Julius Meinl who had a daughter just a month older than my son.  Or the nice Pakistani guy who sold me my lottery tickets.  Will their lives go on without me?  I'm guessing most likely.  I suspect that they couldn't care less that I have not been to see them recently.  But I hope somehow they know that I do miss them.  Crazy.  What a sap.  But they were a part of my life.  And I wish them well.

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