I'm a Chicagoan. This is my city. It's big, bold, beautiful, messy, sometimes it's complicated, filled with love and hope.
I respect the hell out of those Cubs fans who have waited 108 years for this win. But I can't tell their story, I can only tell you mine.
I have deep roots in this city. When I finally found my way home over 15 years ago I ended up living in Ukrainian Village, only a block away from my grandparents first apartment that they rented after they married in the 50s.
I left this city for a year to live in Iraq. While I was gone I missed this city with an indescribable ache.
I still have that moment of wonder when I catch a glimpse of the city on my way to work. This morning it was wreathed in fog and autumn breezes and it made my heart catch for a moment.
Last night I gasped, cheered, shouted and cried when the Cubs won. Am I fan, no, but I have a deep abiding love for my city and I felt the wave of joy and relief wash over it.