"But we can’t move when we’re expecting a baby!”
That was my grand rebuttal to my husband’s declaration that he had found a house for us ... in the suburbs (cue the shrill scream).
Forgive me, but I’m one of those “city people.” I walk everywhere at a fast pace, relish the blistering noise and wax poetic about Chicago on a daily basis. Architecture! Michelin Stars! The Art Institute! Every evening, I would slouch on the well-worn sofa of our Michigan Avenue condo and watch the clouds turn pink before the skyscrapers switched on like night lights. The city glittered.