On day three, we walked around downtown. Will had taken us into the Chicago Cultural Center and then across Michigan Avenue to The Bean.
Now we were on a walk to some other destination. (He gave the kids a lot of outdoor walking time, which we loved, because the weather was glorious — blue skies, sun, and temperatures in the 70s). We were on our way to catch the L. This took us along a winding colonnade of some modern buildings along the Chicago River …
… and into a small plaza nestled between gothic revival, neo-gothic, Sullivanesque ornamentation, less-is-more modernism, international modernism, Skidmore Owings and Merrill, and surely post-modernism (right?). At this point, Jake said he needed gauze bandages.
Wait. What?
It turns out, Jake got poison ivy before our trip. Although he didn’t know it when we left, as the days passed, his sores became an undeniable curiosity, then something to worry about, and then, as seeping sores ran down his legs, an alarming monstrosity. For more than a day, he had been secretly seeking a drug store without any success. And now here in this the plaza he spied a CVS.
Jake and Ms Johns went in.
The rest kept going at Will’s brisk pace. They went down some stairs, up some stairs, around the shiny reflections of a sleek wall of glass, and then out of sight.
I was worried that we might lose the Jake and Ms Johns. So I lagged behind that I might keep both the CVS and the group in sight. But soon the group was gone. Down one stairway too many or around one too many curves. Out of sight. I hustled to catch up, firing off photos of each turn to Ms Johns to guide their return.
And now, I could see no one. No CVS behind me. No hustling group ahead. In this city of millions, there was not a soul ahead or behind me. Just a sleek skyscraper wall on my right and the Chicago River on my left. I looked back. I looked forward. And I chose the path most trodden by and picked up the pace, hoping that my breadcrumb photos would be sufficient for Jake and Ms John. And hoping that it would be obvious to me where the others had gone.
In the event, it was obvious. For after a turn or two and another stairway down-and-up, there they were, paused on a bridge over the river, waiting for us and waving.
Five minutes later, here came Jake and Ms Johns, panting as they arrived, Jake’s legs fully mummified.
