This past Saturday brought part two of moving day, and I woke up at 4:15 in the morning in order to get the ball rolling. I didn’t delay the start of the day by aimlessly scrolling through my phone for ten minutes or by hitting the snooze button for an extra five minutes of sleep. September first was a day that I just needed to get through, and I wanted it to start as quickly as possible because that meant I was one step closer to it all being over. You know, the kind of day where something difficult is set to happen and you don’t really want to do it, but in order to get to the happy ending, you need to get through that moment first? September first was one of those days. It would be 15 hours or so of nonstop craziness, but at the end of the day I would be going home to my own place; and that was enough to build a momentum that lasted throughout the day.
I spent the month of August commuting between work in downtown Chicago and my Grandfather’s house in Indiana while I waited for my apartment to be ready on the first day of the new month. On that early Saturday morning, after loading my car with a duffel bag and various other items I felt that I needed throughout August, I was on my way back into the Windy City by 6:15AM.
The weather forecast called for severe storms the entire day, so imagine a sky of swirling charcoal gray clouds, a torrential downpour, electrifying cracks of thick blue lightning, and a horror story’s thunderstorm soundtrack – and that was the outdoor setting for Saturday.
My new building had a team of five people moving all five new tenants into our apartments that day. It was such a blessing and I was so relieved for the help. After everything was done being moved inside, I was standing by the U-Haul and saw an elderly woman walking down the alley. It was raining and she had a bright red umbrella above her head with a curious look on her face as she eyed the moving truck. “Of all the days to move,” I chuckled to her. She happily responded, “it’s a great day to move!” I must have looked confused because she went on to say “when you move to a new place on a rainy day, it means you will have a prosperous and fulfilling life. Tradition says it’s good luck. Well, Jewish tradition says so.”
I cannot help but believe her to be undeniably correct. I went to work for a few hours that afternoon and for the first time in a very long time, I was able to come back to a place at the end of the day that I can call home. There is great comfort in knowing that in this vast, windy city, there’s a small space in it that belongs to me; a new chapter and a space where I am able to come back every evening after a day of adventures in the bustling land of Chicago.