Two years ago tomorrow.
Most Chicagoans can tell you nightmares about what they experienced that day. Hours spent parked on Lake Shore Drive. Stranded at work or at home. No heat or electricity.
But I remember it differently. January 31, 2011 was one of the best days of my life. I still don’t know what made me do it. Amidst the hysteria the day before the Blizzard To End All Blizzards I shuttled off an e-mail to you. If you get out of work early because of the snow, would you consider heading here instead of going home? Or something like that. My stomach somersaulted as I waited for your response.
But you packed a bag and brought it to work. And when the office closed early because of the snow you came to me instead of going home. You trekked nearly a mile from the Sheridan L stop in horizontal snow. You showed up frozen and ice-encrusted at my door. I melted and you stayed.
You know how some people say there’s a moment when they just know? On that day, I knew. I knew that if you and I were the only people stranded on a deserted island for eternity or holed up in my 800-square foot apartment on the tenth floor for two days while the windows rattled with thundersnow nothing in the world could ever make me happier.
And in my own way, on that day, I knew.