Same Journey, Twice The Time
12:14 pm.
I start my walk home. I get off the blue line at the Harlem station and look out at the expressway, filled with cars, trucks, and even a party bus. The air is cold, but the sun is out. There’s some construction on the Forest Park side of the tracks and even on the shoulder of the expressway. It smells like gasoline and trash. There are all kinds of people around. People are rushing to and from the train, homeless people sleeping in the station, and kids going home from school. I pass by some friends from high school, since my high school is down the street. The personality of this street is busy and rushed. It’s easy to tell. No one stops for anything. There’s an obvious shift in history here. With new construction leaves old history. I remember coming to the Harlem station with my grandmother not fifteen years ago. There were many more American Elm trees then compared to now. Now there are more sidewalks and more small houses being built.
12:48 pm
I’ve just passed a bright yellow house on Harlem Ave. The windows are cozy and look like windows I could sit by and read all day. There is a Rottweiler in a car a few houses down. It is barking at me. A little further down is the Rejoice Ministries building. They have a sign put up for their yearly charity, which donates food and clothes to those who need it most. I sit on a bus bench, watching as the cars go by. It is not as loud as the Harlem station, but there are still a number of vehicles rushing by me. Someone beeps at another driver and flips him off. The wind blows my hair in my face, so I put it in a bun. It’s about 65 degrees Fahrenheit, says my weather app. There are many more trees here than by the station, which helps me hide in the shade. There are less people walking around. I zone out while watching cars come and go and without realizing, a bus stops and the driver asks if I’m getting on. I shake my head and apologize. It is now 1:02 pm.
1:16 pm
I’ve stopped at Brandy’s for a small bite to eat. Brandy’s has been in the Edison Park area since before I was born. They serve gyros, hot dogs, fries, among more. Next to the restaurant is a really cool Jeep that is painted a deep evergreen color. It has tarp on the trunk. I want a car like that. Cars come and go from the parking lot and as I head out the door of Brandy’s, the 88 CTA bus passes by. I cross the street and have to wait for the Metra to pass by. The lights are a bright red and the Metra horn sounds, letting everyone know that it is passing. I love when the Metra passes because for a few seconds, you feel a huge gust of wind and hear nothing but the sound of the train. Technically, Metra’s have been running since the 30’s, but they expanded their lines significantly in the 60’s and 70’s and were officially named the Metropolitan Rail (Metra for short) in ’85. Google told me that. I like taking the Metra to school, although it is a bit out of the way.
1:23 pm
I have started walking again. I pass by a Starbucks, which brings memories of cramming for finals my senior year of high school. There is a Verizon across from the Starbucks. The buildings are built very similarly. This street is very busy. This intersection is where Devon, Harlem, and Northwest Highway all cross paths. There are cars honking, an ambulance, and people who are too impatient to wait for the crosswalk light to turn green. The wind has picked up and I feel sweaty. I’m standing, making mental notes of what everyone looks and sounds like. There is a mom in a blue Toyota in front of me who is trying to get her kids to calm down in the back seat. There is a girl sitting across the street at Dunkin Donuts, presumably waiting for the bus. She seems to be listening to music. People are walking out Dunkin with their coffees and donuts. I’m shivering. My sweater is very thin, and I can feel the breeze through it. My mom calls me, asking where I am. She wants to know why I’m taking so long to get home. This intersection has a very similar, yet different personality compared to Harlem. People are not as rushed, and it doesn’t seem like drivers are as pressed to get to their destinations. It smells like gas, donuts, and coffee.
1:45 pm
I’ve turned onto a side street. I passed by a chiropractic building, where I used to go for scoliosis checkups quite often. The streets have suddenly gotten much quieter. The houses are closer together, and the Elm trees are everywhere. There are stumps of what trees used to be and new ones next to them. I count the rings on one of the tree stumps. I count 13. I walk past houses of friends that I recognize. The streets weave themselves together and I find myself taking a longer way home. I pass by the daycare I volunteered at in middle school. The smell of juice and faint sound of children playing inside makes me feel nostalgic. I’m not far from home now, but somehow I find myself not wanting to finish my walk. People around me are walking their dogs, playing with their kids and siblings, or just sitting on their porch,. Having a beer and chatting with their spouses. I say hello to my neighbors, as I usually do on my way home. I see one of my neighbor’s kids drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. They draw flowers, the sun, and a hopscotch template. I get home and before I can take a step inside, my dog runs outside and sits in the sun. It doesn’t take long, however, for him to come back to the door and ask to be played with.
Walking the two miles home usually takes 40 minutes, but when taking over an hour to take a look at my surroundings, I realized that there is more to my commute than I thought.
