This weekend feels special.
For nearly a decade, I’ve carried a quiet dream. One that traces all the way back to 2016. And this weekend, I finally get to live it.
For a few days, I will be “living” at Crosstown.
If you know me, you know my affection for Crosstown Concourse runs deep. But the story doesn’t begin with the beautifully restored landmark we know today. It begins when it was still known as Sears Crosstown.
That’s where my story begins, too.
My parents met on an elevator inside that building when they both worked there. There is still a photograph of my mom hanging in the hallway that separates the two atriums. A quiet reminder that this place holds more than commerce and creativity. It holds family history. My family history.
As a child, I would visit my dad there at work. Our family banked at the credit union inside the building. We shopped in the store. Those walls were part of my early world.
When Crosstown Concourse reopened in its reimagined form, it felt like falling in love all over again. The building’s rebirth mirrored something personal. A blending of past and present. Every time I walk through those doors, it feels like coming home.
Being there brings me close to my parents, both of whom passed away far too early in my adult life. It also awakens something in me. The creative energy of the space, the sense of possibility, the hum of innovation and art and life.
A few years ago, we even considered moving into the apartments. In the end, we chose to remain in the home where we raised our boys. It was the right decision. But the dream of living at Crosstown never really left.
Recently, I discovered that some of the apartments are available for short-term stays. That was all the invitation I needed. I booked a weekend and circled the date on my calendar.
When I unlock that door and step inside, I know there will be a wave of emotion. Gratitude. Memory. Joy. A quiet sense of fulfillment.
It may only be for a weekend, but it represents something much bigger. Honoring where I come from, celebrating what still inspires me and finally stepping into a dream I’ve carried for nearly ten years.
Sometimes, “home” is not just where you live.
Sometimes, it’s where your story began.