suddenly, everything has changed

I slept with my air conditioner on last night. Last night and for the past week because the persistent 80- or 90-degree heat found its way into my room and couldn't be drawn away -- not with the help of fans, not with open windows. Today I'm thinking it might be time to put it away because finally, finally the weathermen are predicting what I assume to be more normal temperatures for this time of year in the 50s and 60s.

The change occurred in the span of about three hours last night. I stepped inside (to see my boyfriend perform improv) at about 7:00 p.m. wearing short sleeves and sandals, the heat and humidity noticeable. I stepped outside again at about 10:00 p.m. and had to put on my sweater: the air felt lighter, crisper, slightly cooler. This morning I made my way to the train station wearing a sweater and a scarf, crunching fallen leaves as I walked down the street. It was, as my neighbor remarked at the door, a beautiful morning. Tomorrow I suspect I'll be wearing a jacket: the temperature is supposed to drop another 10 or 15 degrees.

Weather aside, the world felt different this morning too. Last night was really the first night that I've "gone out" with a girl friend. One of my roommates to be specific, and the evening consisted of everything a good night should: comedy, lots of talking and laughing, beer, and no regard to time. Of course, I realized this morning as I crunched my way to the train station 15 minutes behind schedule, gambling on the fact that the train would only take 30 minutes, that Monday was not a very strategic night for this experience. Nevertheless, as I sat on a bar stool last night just talking, and again this morning in my kitchen, I started feeling what I felt most of last year: the feeling that starts in my stomach and spreads to my racing heart and up to my content brain, the feeling that I am doing the right thing. What's more, this feeling spread through my sleepy eyes and pounding head to my desk at work and suddenly my to-do list didn't seem so dire and my work here didn't seem so final. This is what I do now, not forever.

All this contributed to my feeling this morning, as I strode across LaSalle in the direction of my building in my mini-heels and scarf, that I belong here. I belong where there is the sun glinting in the windows of skyscrapers in the morning, where there are honking cars and people wearing suits crossing the street. I belong where there is, finally, fall.