I’m coming up on a month in the Windy City. I’m not sure what kind of milestones I had expected or hoped to pass, if any, but I do know that time is flying.

I think of blogging daily. At the end of many days I look back and wish I had the energy or clarity of mind to put into words how I’m feeling so I can capture the snapshots of passion and total nowness I want this summer to represent for me. I wish I could write an epic about the way I felt as the train rounded a corner into Ogilvie, downtown flew into view and the instrumental bridge of “Casimir Pulaski Day” by Sufjan Stevens was playing on my iPod. That’s the stuff my summer is made of, and I’ll get it down sometime. But for tonight:

I’ve finished a book. I’ve seen one of my favorite bands in concert. I’ve eaten at fabulous restaurants. I’ve miraculously lost weight. I’ve relearned how to cook and rely on myself for meals — and I’ve remembered what I’m like if I don’t (hungry). I’ve drank more chai than a normal person should. I’ve met a great person that I think I will be spending more time with this summer, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to be reminded that they always come when you least expect them.

I’ve felt my first (and second and third) bout of homesickness. And I’ve let them pass.

Yeah. The enchantment continues.