Heads above

Scanning the cranial horizon is fun when flying. It beats getting to know your seat-mate, which might be fun, too; except you can never be sure.

I like to look at the little domes of heads atop the bodies of those sitting ahead of me: fluffy white, brillo-pad black, lamely brown, once in a while a spikey yellow one. These ethnic igloos are cute, I think. I have no opinion whatsoever about who they belong to, where they hail from, what they are worrying about.

I’ve tried doing the same with feet, watching them when I walk around the streets of Chicago but this gets old pretty fast. Chicagoans, generally speaking, all wear the same shoes.

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About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.
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