…And I love Chicago.
As I mentioned in my Back in the Windy City post, I was, well…back in the Windy City this past weekend. And true to my word, adventure I did find. It was a bit different and a bit more expensive than what I had planned.
Friday morning started off early (doesn’t morning always come too early, though?) with hopping on a train and skipping Math 136. Hip hip huzzah already, am I right? My Amtrak was 20 minutes early into Union Station–I KNOW, IMPOSSIBLE–where I met up with dear Sara, the bride-to-be!
Really, this whole weekend was about Sara (or should have been) so let me brag on her for one second.
Sara is the kind of friend that when she first comes into your life, you have to rethink a lot of things. Sara is wild, and she is the perfect wild. With her, extroverted doesn’t mean pushy, loud just means passionate, and love happens one way–fiercely. I had forgotten what kind of light had left my life when I moved out of Chicago. I about cried when we got to Moody and she said, “Can I get you anything? I have granola bars if you want one.” Just like old times.
Of course, many other friends were there to catch up with and hug and exclaim to each other, “You’re doing what next year?” Shoutout to the girls of Smith 5 for filling up such a substantial space in such an insubstantial amount of time.
Before the Shower, my body (unbeknownst to my mind) decided to start off the day with some excitement. Climbing down from my top bunk, I tried to go slowly and quietly as everyone else was still asleep. The air mattress on the floor left a perimeter of approximately 1 inch of walking space. No matter. There was a desk conveniently placed right beside the bunk bed. And oh, look, another desk. After maneuvering as close as possible to the door, I lightly hopped off the second desk to soundlessly exit the room. Except I didn’t. Somehow I landed on my toe (of all the talents to have), and the pain was instant. Limping out of the room, I felt the bottom of my foot and my hand came away red. Suuuuuper.
I headed to a walk-in clinic after the bridal shower, dropped too much money on an exam and x-ray, and started crying when the doctor said it was fractured.
“Noo!” he said, looking alarmed. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I boo-hooed. “I’m getting married next month.” I wasn’t going to sit there and explain to this guy that I love my wedding shoes more than I love my wedding dress.
“Ohh, it’s okay,” he said as he handed me a box of tissues. “You’ll be alright. We’re going to give you a walking boot. Keep it on for 2-4 weeks.”
2-4 weeks? That was all I needed to stop crying, because the wedding is in 6. (At this point I think he was very concerned about my emotional well-being).
So, there you have it. I, Kelly, the girl who worries constantly about her fiancé playing basketball because he’s probably going to ______ (fill in with any catastrophic injury) am in an air cast the month before I get married. I haven’t told you the best part though…
I’m kind of a klutz, so this air cast has been used before. Senior year, sophomore year, back to eighth grade year. And in eighth grade, when it was still cool to have people sign casts, I had the band sign mine.
Among others, there, front and center, is the sloppy signature of my almost husband. With the cutest, most misshapen heart you ever did see.
So you tried, Chicago. You hate me, but I’ll never hate you. You just keep giving me good stories to tell, even though they sometimes leave me worse for wear.
*All Bridal Shower photography by Lauren Bortz