If You Came Where I Grew Up

 

If you came where I grew up, you'd know why I like the seasons,

why I enjoy the rustle of the leaves as they crackle and crunch underfoot,

why I long to see the tiny buds of spring, scrunched up like tiny sheets of paper ;

you'd understand why summer is a time of festivals and celebration. 

If you came where I grew up, you'd know why I like buildings as tall as trees.

You would understand why I like cities, and

why I like streets teeming with cars and bikes.

You would see why open spaces do not appeal to me.  

If you came where I grew up, you'd know why I take a jacket to the city.

You would see why I don't like dark streets, or graffiti scribbled on walls.

You'd understand why I sometimes cross the street before the corner,

and why I carry my wallet in my front pocket. 

If you came where I grew up you might learn to appreciate the arts,

to admire a Monet, Degas, or Magritte.

You might see Cats, Les Miserables, or Showboat.

You might see Orchestra Hall, Ravinia, or the Grant Park Band shell. 

If you came where I grew up you would understand Carl Sandburg,

what he meant by "the city of big shoulders,"

or why we're called "the windy city."

You'd know what lake-effect snow is. 

If you came where I grew up you would walk past the Sears Tower,

and not even look up. You would walk past Prudential,

and wonder how it ever used to be the tallest in the world.

You would marvel at our architecture. 

If you came where I grew up you would understand Chicago.

But more than that, if you came where I grew up,

you would understand something else:

you would understand me.

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