Chicago Dispatch: Dear Stranger

I went on a walk today. I walked along East Monroe Street until I got to the Lake and then took a left to Grant Park. On most other days I take a right and walk towards the Aquarium. Today I wasn’t paying that much attention to where I was headed. It was an uphill climb and then a downward slope. The wind was cold and hard, it resisted me and my attempts to walk. My body held firm against it and continued to walk. I took my gloves off so I could describe to you what the parapet walls that overlooks the Metra tracks near the Art Institute felt like. They were grainy and hard like rock salt on cement. My legs in the meantime (I couldn't take my boots off) felt the hard concrete pavement. The bush bramble on the way stuck out, as if waiting for someone to caress it. It was dry and brittle from waiting for summer. 

There was a thick, large tree on my walk. There were many but this particular one drew me. I got off the hard pavement and onto the soft mud that used to be green grass to get closer to this tree. Its leaves had fallen off. Lichen had grown along its bark, vertically between the cracked wood. So the bark felt both hard and soft. This tree too was dry from waiting. As I ran my hand across the lichen and bark wood, I found a small flower growing on the tree. 

As if waiting for me, at brief intervals during my walk, I spotted benches where I could pause and write down everything I had just experienced. My legs weren't tired. My breath wasn't raspy. My body was beginning to feel invisible. The more I became aware of the things that surrounded me, the less attention I was paying to my own thoughts and feelings. The seagulls were whispering at first and as I got closer to Navy Pier, they were screeching. I heard footsteps on a pavement. Of running shoes hitting them followed by sharp intakes of breath. I could hear the water splashing. It was like a puppet held on strings, being maneuvered against different surfaces. First it splashed against the pavement like water moving in a hollow space. Then it lapped gently as the ducks waddled in it. The closer I got to Navy Pier, I could hear big waves beating against the giant metal bodies of ships. The Anita Dee, one of them was named. White in color with blue text on the front, Anita Dee was docked quietly since she had fallen out of use in the winter time. I heard a woman saying something loudly but heard two pairs of footsteps. Maybe the second pair was a listening kind of friend. I could hear the wind swooshing about on the lake, on the grass, against the bare naked trees, against me, against the cars on Lake shore drive. I also heard the rubber tires of cars rolling on Lake shore drive. The cold wind cutting against the metal bodies of these cars creating a swishing noise like if you cracked a whip and the echo was left in the air. 

As I got up from my bench to continue my walk I looked up at the Ferris Wheel, spinning lazily in the wind. I could hear the man walking behind me, his jacket rubbing against his limbs as he moved them. Like plastic bags rubbing against each other his jacket made rustling noises. The seagulls were still screeching. The path I had been walking on was coming to an end. So I cut across the grass and turned left toward the Riverwalk. The water sign in me was drawn to these water bodies. From one large blue bowl to one green swishing mass my eyes followed the water. 

I stopped by the skating rink at McCormick Place so I could describe to you some sights. I had been mostly distracted by the sight of water and blue skies all this time. Michigan Avenue crashed into me like a wedding party as I ascended the stairs from the Riverwalk and up onto the street. I saw three men in Blue blazer laughing about how many push-ups they could do. I cut ahead of them and suppressed laughter. Instead I switched my attention to the storefronts. There were so many stores, I wanted to record their names for you. Instead I made a mental list of the things I had seen so far: Candida Alvarez's public sculpture- multicolored banners, a red and black sculpture, a set of table and chairs that were tied together with one big metal wire, a giant metal flower, a tiki bar and boat both of which were closed, a lady in a purple jacket and golden stilettos, a man who fell asleep while walking, the Nutella cafe, David's Tea, Peet's Coffee, the Cultural Center, this list goes on until I hit 116 S Michigan but you can make your own list of things between the Cultural Center and the 116 S Michigan because I’m sure you've walked this length often. 

Instead I want to tell you about the ice skating rink which was pure white. The circular slab of ice had been marked with the multiple blades that had been carving on it. People in pairs, families, alone, in threes and on the rare occasion fours, were ice skating. One set of three people was struggling as they kept having to steady the little boy between them who could barely stand but couldn't stop giggling as he struggled to balance himself. The wind was so icy that it killed most of the scents. I caught a whiff of somebody's orange and lemon perfume for a brief second as they passed me by and there was the downtown standard aroma of marijuana and then there was nothing. I even stuck my tongue out to see if the wind had any taste. It was dead. 

So I bought a cup of hibiscus tea and the smell followed me. This strong scent and I walked across downtown, as if using an incense to spread the fragrance. I found a quiet place to set down my tea. I unwrapped the almond biscotti I bought to drink with my tea. It was crunchy, the almonds were delicious. 

I hope this finds you in good health. If not, I hope this cheers you up. Or like a warm hug squeezes you heart and reminds you that the winter will pass. Like the trees and brambles, we are all waiting for warm sunshine and a cool breeze so we can sway instead of turning stiff and susceptible to breakage. 

Yours sincerely

The Chicago Dispatch is a weekly status update that includes survival hacks, tips, cons and pros of a decision that Ivashkov chose to make during, before or after her commute. This post intends to help you understand or in a parallel world live through a decision that, having seen the consequences, you can avoid making in your own life, unless you're a rebel. Then good for you man!  Over and out