On multiple occasions this fall, I’ve found myself looking upwards and being in awe from the beauty of our city. The first time I started to pick up this habit was in my soccer practice. My coach’s words faded into the background as I focused on literally anything else but what he was trying to tell us. My eyes were drawn to the facade of a building that was bathed in sunlight across every single crevice. My sudden visual investment in this building made me feel kinda silly. But It made me think. Did people get to enjoy this view 50 years ago or even 100 years ago? Was there ever a person standing in a similar position to me, enjoying the way the sun revived old brick that was tired of holding a building together for so long? It provoked many thoughts in me, but my biggest question was how I had never noticed this before? I’d been on that field many more times than I wanted to, in situations way less interesting, and yet I had never relished in this beauty before.
We take for granted the beauty and changing of colors that define the fall. On my walk to school from the Lincoln Park Zoo there is a point where the path hits a decline, and there are two trees that hang just just out of sight. These two trees were the first things that I started to look at in their entirety after my spark of realization in practice. I was able to appreciate the trees in a way that I hadn’t before. Each morning I stopped for a moment to enjoy the vibrant yellow of each leaf on the trees. Then one day I looked up and the leaves were all gone. I knew that they would eventually fall off the tree, but it felt so abrupt. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to savor one last meal with my eyes. Instead I was forced to step on each fallen leaf as I trekked to school. Even so, I took a picture of the bare tree to savor the moment, to remember why I chose to look up.
Among some of my other observations, I noticed that some of the buildings within the confines of the Lincoln Park area have absolutely no character until you look at the very top of the building. It looks like they built the entire building and then realized they still had a boatload of money left, so they designed the most captivating part at the top. I think part of the reason architects did this is because they had to build a strong stable building to serve a core focus, but wanted to show that they were also capable of creating something you could stare at all day when your eyes finally reached the top. Then, I noticed the flocks of birds that sit on the ledge of the building for one moment before taking off and exploring the infinitely blue sky. They create a temporary ceiling to the sky as they group up and get in formation. Each time I watch them fly around in sporadic patterns, I’m trying to imagine how they all fall into their own respective spot in the group. There’s no bird trying to compete to be the leader in the group, they all just move into their respective spots and stay that way until they land.
After weeks of thinking about why I started looking up, I came to a conclusion. College. As I prepare to go to college I’ve begun thinking of the many things within Chicago I’m temporarily parting with. “What will I miss about Chicago? What makes this city so great?” That’s when I began not only to look up but to enjoy things I had taken for granted, like our captivating city skyline. It’s funny because as I begin to understand why I love this city so much, I’m beginning to part ways with it. I’m just one of the many seniors who have experienced this moment of joy and sorrow jumbled in one. That said, without my impending departure, I would never have begun to look up. As we approach a time holiday where we spread thanks, I challenge you to start looking up and around yourself for the things that you’re thankful for.
