A few months back I was visiting my friend who lives in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago. To get to her apartment from the Southwest suburbs, Apple Maps took me on a route along Lake Shore Drive past iconic Chicago spots: Soldier Field, the Field Museum, Grant Park, Navy Pier…

I felt particularly inspired that morning–maybe a product of staying up far too late the night before. Regardless, I made a voice memo on my phone titled: Lake Shore Drive is a love letter to Chicago.

I’ll be the first to admit that my perspective at the moment was a bit romanticized. I wasn’t stuck in rush hour traffic, or struggling to find any parking on my way to a Bears game (another Chicago pastime that will soon be relegated to the suburbs). I wasn’t a pedestrian trying to access the best natural resource the city has to offer. And maybe most importantly, I wasn’t caught in blustering, sub-zero temperature winds. What I did see, though, was a beautiful spring day along Lake Michigan. I still think Lake Shore Drive symbolizes how native, and transplant, Chicagoans feel about their beloved city. It has its problems but at the end of the day, it’s the city, and the street, that they love.

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Lake Shore Drive is a Love Letter to Chicago.

I hear the faint roar of Soldier Field and see history along the shoreline.

Maggie Daley, Buckingham, Grant, they’re all here.

I see the deep blue of the lake against the pale blue of the sky.

A sole runner on the path in the light of early spring.

I see every building turn into skyline turn into clouds that become part of the city.

I see Sears Tower (Willis to the out-of-towners). I see old, I see new. I see my adolescent dream.

I sense the memories. Feel the fall onto ice. Hear laughter, see the green of the river. Singing on one El to another.

Lake Shore Drive is a love letter to Chicago.