Things I have picked up on Milwaukee Avenue
by A. CANTLIN
A hat reading “tree lover.” I do love trees. And also weed. But I did not know one was slang for the other until my younger cousin told me. I still wear it (I did not get lice).
3 broken bottles of Wild Irish Rose. Someone had a bad (good?) night.
A green leather glove. Just one, summer grass green, right-handed. Thrown for a duel? Maybe not...
A flyer for new zine submissions. The email address for submission was illegible.
Three sets of house keys. All posted to Reddit, one reunited with their owner. Two in purgatory (the spare key container in the kitchen junk drawer).
Two one-night stands, both at the same bookstore. Reading is sexy.
Myself, more times than I can count. Yet I always find new ways to fall down, and new places to trip.
1,973 pieces of trash and counting. Where does it all come from, really? And who the hell leaves a diaper in the middle of the sidewalk?
An empty cat carrier. It was mine; I threw it. It was not supposed to be empty and I needed to feel something. I left it in the dumpster behind Walgreens with my broken heart.
A bag of sausages, lost from Sunday shopping and still sealed. They were delicious. Five bikers, three scooters, and one rollerblader. Wear your helmets, people!
One perfect tulip, yellow burning into red, plucked from the mysterious patch that arises in the bank parking lot each spring. My yearly sign of hope that maybe Chicago winter is finally over. (It usually snows the very next day. But at least I have a flower).
The #56 bus, at every possible time of day, level of sobriety, and state of mind. Thanks, bus drivers, for always letting me ride. And sorry for spilling my coffee that one time.
A to-go margarita on a perfect summer day, conveniently provided in a styrofoam cup for ease in day drinking as I strolled.
A book of 101 Polish jokes. When I opened it at home, it was in Polish. My upstairs neighbor loved it.
6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies, when those evil little geniuses posted up outside the dispensary. But at least I got Samoas (I will never call them “caramel delights” like I will never call it the Willis Tower).
Ridiculously cheap, delicious tamales, most Saturdays at the corner with the rainbow umbrella. Get the green pork.
My first-ever spare. Somehow my family skipped bowling, despite being thoroughly Midwestern in every other way.
My first jibarito. See above.
A truly awesome pair of red sparkly heels, clearly from someone's Dorothy costume (hope they didn’t have a deposit). Alas, they did not fit my elephant feet. Donated to a friend without pachyderm podiatry needs.
A dead bird. I didn't want to pick it up, but my dog made that decision for me when she decided to roll in it. We both got baths that night.
$7.83 in assorted small change, mostly pennies. Added to the retirement fund jar, in case that ever happens.
A piece of a maple tree, after that random tornado last year. Unfortunately, it landed on my car. Now I use it for dibs.
A lost kitten, with a piece of my broken heart.
Covid, at least once.
Amanda Cantlin is a writer, editor, gardener, baker, and crocheter living in the Avondale neighborhood. Please don't follow her on social media.