Emma Judge Lit

It was a Tuesday night after work. A friend and I dropped everything and went to the beach for a swim in Lake Michigan. After some laps in the water we grabbed some burgers at the beachside bar. We kept breathing in the fresh summer air in big gulps. Grateful that the air no longer stung us from the wintery cold. It was a beautiful night. Perfectly warm with a light breeze. The sunset sky was gorgeous; a watercolor mélange of orange, red, pink, and purple. There was a zen atmosphere on that sandy patio. Everyone was with friends and family, eating and laughing alongside a beautiful skyline and a picturesque sunset.

Having worked up our appetites swimming, we indulged in a couple of cheesy burgers and beers before heading home. The sky was turning a deep blueish-purple at this point, the sun-light almost gone but still dimly lighting up the city. We hopped on our bikes and headed home. It was the most magical bike ride ever. Some might say it was just a commute home, but it was so much more. It was one of those moments, where you take in the whole world around you. It was one of those moments that is so quintessential of city-life. A small moment, where nothing particularly fascinating is happening but you feel the expanse of the world.

We were cruising down the lakefront and the little rays of sun left were glittering off the buildings, old and new. The blueish purple sky was moving like a watercolor that hasn’t yet dried. As we pumped our legs we chatted, laughing about little things here and there and took in the magnificent view that we knew would disappear in minutes with the last bit of sunlight. Stories about our days, the funny little strange things our partners did that week, but interjecting every couple of sentences with comments on how beautiful the night was.

Pumping our legs, left, right, left, right. The noise of people filled the air; friends and couples had flocked to the lakefront to stroll, run, or bike along enjoying our beautiful night. I couldn’t help but look away from the bike path and peer around me at the buildings, the sky, and the lake. It was all just so perfect. Those moments make you appreciate living in a beautiful place, a city where anything is possible. You can drop everything on a Tuesday evening and go do something exciting with a friend and the views will always be there; a city’s presence is loyal to its inhabitants. Whatever ordinary moment you’re having the city will stand there tall, stoic, and loyal awaiting your momentary appreciation.

I love living in a city. I have always been in love with everything metropolitan. And much to the annoyance of others I have always been very unapologetic in my belief that anything short of a big city is a bore. In fact, I use the word belief for lack of a better term, because I don’t think it’s a belief, but simply a truism: Anything short of a big city is a bore.

My favorite part of the living in a big city are these tiny moments. You learn to savor the bus or train ride because it’s a personal escape; it’s reading time (for most city dwellers). Sitting by the water with someone you love watching the sun set behind the skyline. Having a serene cup of coffee on your balcony, or a rooftop breakfast, on a Sunday morning. Being a part of the downtown morning shuffle and taking just a sliver of a moment to put your stress aside to look up and admire the buildings and your privilege to live and work in such a beautiful and important place. Eating three different cuisines in one day, all authentic, all delicious, all immediately accessible. Taking an early morning walk through the park. Going for a waterfront run to decompress. Watching a blizzard from your window with some hot cocoa.

These small, humble moments are easy to overlook. They pass in an instant. When you live in a big city, you are forced to occasionally pause and notice these moments; perhaps it’s the glimmer of the lights or maybe the busy noises that never stop. Regardless you pause in the chaos and look around, and take it all in — the breathtaking views, the sounds, the wonderful restaurant smells (ignoring the sometimes not so wonderful smells), and the endless possibilities.

Living in a city means that these individual moments are also magically collective. We look up at that gorgeous skyline sunset and think Wow, this city is all mine. I belong to it, and it belongs to me. And this is true. But it’s also a collective experience — there are countless people looking at this view proudly and graciously thinking the same thing. And that thought of connection to the unknown only makes it all the more special. I wasn’t just sharing a beautiful moment biking home on a perfect summer night with my friend, but we were experiencing it with everyone else there.
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Some of the most beautiful moments of living in a city happen when you’re doing something forgettable, along with everyone else, and in front of a beautiful backdrop. And this was one of those moments. A bike-ride commute with a friend. Nothing spectacular, but the setting made it unforgettable. The sky, the scent of the air, the breeze, the chatter and motion of people enjoying the summer air, the twinkling buildings, and the feeling of utter appreciation that I get to live in a big city.