Urban Faeries

I spotted it at one of our favorite parks, this doorway into the Faerie Realm. As I snapped this photo Jon said, “Raccoons”.

I stepped back to take this picture of the whole tree and this happened. First faerie to show themself to me in this way in Chicago.

“I never said it wasn’t a faerie door, I just said raccoons have been using it too.” he countered from the bench he had landed on while Teddy, Zoey, and Sookie plopped down in the grass beside him. They love the grass here. When hitting the park, Sookie’s first order of business is to flop on her back and joyfully roll in it.

None of us are missing Ojai or California at all right now. It’s not that we did not love living there, it’s that we also love living here.

My fears about returning to the city almost immediately dissolved as soon as we settled in. My biggest fear was noise, both physical and energetic. We live in a 100-year-old brick building with solid interior walls and doors. When the windows are closed we hear absolutely nothing from outdoors, when open, the sounds are very similar to our neighborhood in Meiners Oaks with an increase in children playing sounds from the schoolyard across the street and an uptick in sirens.

For the most part, the homes we occupied in California were built from wood and our last one had little to no insulation. We heard every damn thing happening at all times whether our windows were open or not. I also used to sit in the front yard and yell, “Slow down!” at the cars speeding down our block. Speed bumps were installed right before our arrival on the block on Oakley where we now live, and they are doing my job for me.

This is just one example of the many pieces of magic playing out, things initiated in Ojai already taken care of or coming to fruition here. I gave away my desk and office chair and knew I’d have to find ones after we moved. I am committing to procuring as many used items as I can. This means I am taking my time and allowing everything to remain unfinished for as long as needed. The other day I stumbled onto a free desk on Facebook from a college student living in Rogers Park (someone I was thirty-eight years ago). I snagged the Cuisinart Electric Kettle I have been eyeing for years for $20 from another college student who lives directly across the street from the apartment building where I lived in the Lakeview neighborhood for the rest of my college years. Theresa then offered us office chairs that were sitting in the basement of our building. Suddenly I have a place to work from, right on time, since I begin again with clients on Monday. Internet was also installed this week, the final major component needed to facilitate my work.

I still want something squishy to sit on in my office, a couple of armchairs or a loveseat, or something like that. I do NOT want a futon. I am so sick of futons. I have always had a futon in my office which always turns into a guest room when needed and I refuse to buy another futon. Right now I am typing from my office for the very first time. There is a full-sized bed behind me, and I am not ready to move it out of here. I am contemplating just getting a soft chair and keeping the bed in here. Why not have a bed in my office? This life is exhausting.

Most of what felt like “too much” just a few days ago is now handled and in the rear window with other fun things ahead on our path. I knew that writing about how it all felt like too much would be the antidote to the illness of overwhelm I was experiencing. I have often found that releasing bottled-up creative energy opens the flow everywhere else.

We found ourselves a new vet today, rather Theresa and Helena gave us a recommendation, and as soon as Dr. Altneu walked into the examination room at Evanston Animal Hospital all three of our pooches immediately relaxed, even Teddy, who was taking treats out of her hand and sneaking her kisses by the end of our visit. I left the office flooded with a feeling of relief. There is nothing like knowing I can lean into someone else when it comes to the care of those I love.

And the people, I’ve had so many conversations with strangers and smiles and nods and waves already in three weeks of being here. People let you in while in traffic here. They are also quick to honk at you if you fuck up, which I have certainly done, multiple times. I did not think it possible for me to get lost in Chicago, a city I lived in for twenty years, but Jon and I have each gotten lost many times due to streets not being where we remembered them being and/or trying to “find it” without the help of our phone’s GPS.

The other day I suddenly remembered one of my fast routes/shortcuts from Rogers Park to Andersonville, and a light went off. I have not gotten lost since and am remembering more and more of my tried and true speedy routes through the maze of traffic that can comprise these streets. City driving is a dance that is still steeped in the cells of my body.

Our current haunts are Rogers Park, Edgewater, Andersonville, Uptown, and Evanston with adventures farther beyond these areas into neighborhoods that have changed dramatically since our last time here. The other night we ate what may have been the best vegan meal we’ve had at a restaurant at Casa Yari in Logan Square (note to self: do not make this drive again during “rush hour”). Yari Vargas is Puerto Rican and Honduran and her menu is a collaboration between the two cultures. Almost every dish on the menu has a vegan option and Jon and I were in food heaven as we dined on the Latin and Caribbean fare.

I have become a Chicagoan again in an instant. Moving from here to the Redwoods in 2004 was exciting and terrifying as we headed into unknown terrain flying by the seats of our pants, giving ourselves the dream of living in California without knowing what that dream would feel like. We did and saw and experienced so much in California from the trees to the beach to the valley to the mountains and everything in between. Our work grew, we grew, and we brought all of this back.

It’s in us now, and we are changed. I can feel the difference as I walk and drive these streets. I am no longer the scared version of me just trying to figure myself out and get by. I am more healed and settled with an integrated confidence I used to pretend.

And there are faeries in human form everywhere I look.

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