Raven Clemons

I’ve always known my life wouldn’t stay rooted in my hometown. Even when I was young, I could feel myself drawn toward a different kind of life than the one I knew.

Growing up in the Midwest, we spent school breaks and weekend trips in Chicago, and every visit made me feel more alive. The rush of people on the sidewalks, the CTA rumbling overhead, the skyline stretching into the clouds, and the lake shifting to a new shade of blue each time were moments that stayed with me. I’d leave after each trip already wondering when I’d be back.

In my early twenties, I went through a few difficult years and eventually reached a point where my life felt too small for the person I was becoming. I realized I was standing at a crossroads: I could stay where everything was familiar, or I could finally choose the life I’d been dreaming about.

Surviving that season also gave me something I didn’t have before: courage. If I could make it through all of that, I could move to Chicago on my own.

Months of interviews later, I accepted a job based in the Chicago suburbs (little did I know). I packed everything I owned into my 2008 Volkswagen Jetta, said goodbye to the life I’d always known, and pointed my car northeast.

I never looked back.

Once I was all alone in my apartment, I didn’t know what to expect. In the months that followed, I found a version of myself I hadn’t met yet. Building a life from scratch taught me to trust my instincts and showed me I was far more capable than I’d ever given myself credit for.

Twenty-nine-year-old me can’t believe that was five years ago. It feels like yesterday and somehow a lifetime ago at the same time. The version of me who made that drive barely resembles the person writing this today, sitting on a CTA train.

I’ve called three apartments across three different neighborhoods home, and each one holds a different version of me.

Somewhere along the way, Chicago stopped feeling like a place I dreamed about living in and started feeling like home.

I wandered through neighborhoods that each felt like their own little world, and spent my free time chasing everything Chicago had to offer. There’s always something to discover, that’s the magic about the city.

Before I knew it, I gained nearly fifteen pounds because I’d eaten my way through more restaurants than I could count (top percentile of Chicago diners on Beli, thank you very much).

I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve spent squeezed into concert venues. Lincoln Hall is still my favorite, in case you were wondering.

But home here has never just been about the places or experiences I’ve lived.

This city also gifted me friendships that make me feel deeply seen, the kind that remind me just how special girlhood can be. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I fell in love when I wasn’t even looking for it.

I used to leave Chicago wondering when I’d be back. Now I leave for trips wondering when I get to come home.

To Chicago,

I love you.