Year after year, I relish coming to Door County for the same reasons: sun, sleep, food (fudge.), time with my family and time away from wherever and whomever. Until now, in fact, I’ve not had Internet and I generally relish that disconnect with the rest of the world as well.

This year, I needed the trip. Friends, I got my heart broken. The kind of break that comes out of left field, and you’re pissed because you didn’t see it coming, and then you don’t know if you’re more pissed about it being broken or about not seeing it coming.

So there I was, feeling hurt and stupid (what a combination.) and what better way to deal with it than to leave? Sure, it had been on the calendar for months. But how convenient to be able to turn my back on Chicago and this fellow’s already-turned back right in the nick of time and head north for a week to forget, or at least get away from, my problems?

North I came. I got sun and sleep and food and fudge (and the Fudge House mayorship, suck it.) and time with my family and even time with one of my best friends from school. But I’m sure you’re shocked to find that my problems and the little hurt in my big ol’ heart didn’t go away. After almost a week in the most wonderful place on earth, it’s still here. Door County is good for a lot but it ain’t this.

As it turns out, no matter my location, the hurt might not be going anywhere, but I am. My summer is. My time in my city is. And here I sit, with my back turned on it — hoping time and distance will fix things. (It won’t.)

I’m going back tomorrow. I want the weekend — I have two, maybe three left. They’re mine and I’m taking them. I’m taking them, I’m taking the city and I’m taking what’s left of my summer. I got what I needed from Door, but there’s more still I need out of Chicago. So here I go.