Clouds

I describe our view as being like Las Vegas in the daylight. At night it shines and sparkles- there is movement of cars on the Dan Ryan and cutting across Roosevelt, boats float past along the river for twilight city tours, and planes dot the sky in their line ups into Midway and O’Hare (our building is in a very opportune spot to be able to observe traffic in and out of both airports).

But in the daytime- it’s all concrete. Astroturf instead of grass (I realized with dismay one afternoon we are unable to see any natural grass from our apartment- any green is fake). During moments of my workday when my motivation has been lassoed into a choke hold, I turn my head to the left and observe all the beige. There is movement of cars, Amrak and Metra trains, but in the daylight it feels like a slog, the travel bringing those folks not to a desired end, as one feels at the end of a workday. Even the cars parked on the top level of our parking garage that I look down on strike me as boring during these times- white, black, navy blue. There is no dazzling me during these hours.

I have a coworker in Michigan who I don’t work with extremely closely, but with whom I share a few meetings every month. She lives in the suburbs, not far from where I grew up actually, and her office is in a front room of her home, with a window view of her front yard and subdivision street behind her. About a year ago, I noticed that when I have these calls with her on them, I find myself soaking up the green of a tree that takes center stage in her window view; it patiently bestows a calm upon me, even though it knows full well that I chose this city life over its own quiet existence. Trees are forgiving like that. Lawn service trucks and cars drive past occasionally- wait, no, they don’t just drive past- they amble. There is so much ambling happening behind Amy when we are on calls together. Now I don’t mean to be dismissive of that suburban lifestyle- I know that everyone driving past Amy’s house is going about their business and what needs attending to, just as they are out my window, driving up Wells Street. But that slice out her window feels slower, quieter, greener.

My trick is to find new things out my window. Bonus points if it has to do with nature. Today the Chicago river is brown, muddy-appearing. I considered walking over during a break, but today it looks like the river could use a break itself from all the tourist boats churning up silt. Other days the river takes on an aqua glint, it sparkes in the sunshine. My favorite is when it is mirror smooth, the shrubs on the riverbank and the blue sky repeating themselves on the surface. Or when I can see a ripply line slowly evolving as a duck makes its slow way across. Sometimes all you have to do is look.

And of course, there is the obvious- the clouds. Always changing, coming and going. This past week there were two days when a single solitary cloud caught my eye. After taking the first picture I found out from a chat at work that Taylor Swift had gotten engaged. I realized that instead of picking up my phone to learn this news story, I had picked up my phone to capture this cloud, all on its own in the blue expansiveness of the sky. These solitary clouds suggest everything- courage, curiosity, independence, adventure, whimsy. And maybe a wisp of a reminder, that if we look hard enough, there is always something for us to latch onto.