Abigail M. Schilling

When I was little we lived in the suburbs of Chicago and my dad worked in The City. Most people's dads worked in The City and, on occasion, when I would meet someone who hadn't and they'd try to explain where exactly their dad worked I wasn't able to understand how a job could exist outside of the city. (Also, whenever I asked what my dad, I was told he "made money." I imagined him working at a mint. And moms never worked in our suburb. They had charity banquets.)

My dad took the train to The City ever day. He would get on at Winnetka and off at Chicago Ave. I was fascinated with this trip. The first Saturday of the month he would have to go in for the numbers in the morning and he would take me on the train with him. The conductor called every station and I tried to memorize them. Kenilworth. Central Street. Rogers Park. I could never keep them all straight.

On the weekdays when my dad came home from The City I would quiz him on the stops. I was never sure of the answers and he always was and I loved the song of Main Street, Evanston, Davis.

Since Heather and Carolyn moved 10 miles away (which is a long way in Los Angeles wasteland), I've found myself in the car much more than ever before. After spending the past four years here in the same place all the time, I forgot what it was like to drive.

I spent the two years in Chicago before I moved on the ninety-fours (94, 294, 894, and the 290, and the 90, and I can't believe I could keep all these straight at one point) driving everywhere. My friends were all around the Chicagoland Area (seriously? Chicagoland? It sounds like an amusement park) and my brother was going to school in Deerfield and we were living in Northbrook and I was going to school in Wilmette and I was everywhere. I knew the radio DJs and the gear shifts and everything about the roads and the cars.

I'm learning the lights between my house and theirs. With over 20 starting and stopping points, I feel like I'm starting and stopping all over again. The lights remind me of Winnetka and the rail and the driving reminds of Northbrook and Wilmette and the distance reminds me of a lifetime ago before I knew them and before it bothered me to have them so far.