The Pfister’s Blu, is blue.
Not a sad blue.
But a sky blue.
Nestled on the 23rd floor, its windows reach for Lake Michigan’s waters.
And the city streets in between.
I miss the wide open view.
And the promise of something good.
I miss the public spaces.
And the people that I knew.
I miss the days like this one.
When I would begin writing at the Lobby Lounge Bar.
And then find Rosy, the then Artist-in-Residence, in her studio.
I miss our talks.
And our musings.
I miss our explorations to the 23rd floor.
When I would sit with her in the warmth of all that blue.
And talk of things to come.
And laugh in the luxury of Blu.
I miss the Pfister.
And all of the people that I knew.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.
And I think that is most certainly true.