Dear Morton

Dear Morton Arboretum,

Thank you for the hospitality. I have found myself sheltered over the last few years, throughout this worldwide pandemic underneath your awnings of malachite green and cerulean-skyed expanses outperformed by sugar floss clouds. Without your constant in exceptionally unsteady times, my world would have felt so much smaller, stuck at home and persisting down the same paths through our neighborhood. Thank you for welcoming us with furlough from land-locked suburbia.

Each time I propel through your gates, there is a smiling (I assume, underneath that mask) jovial guard. As I step out of my car, there you are — towering trees, a serene lake that we have orbited innumerable times in silence and chatter with my boys. A sigh of release. Larger-than-life art installations to explore. Endless wood-chipped pathways. My boys and I have enjoyed picnics under the large conifers and dodged angry territorial red-wing blackbirds during their nesting season with much amusement. 

In your space, you invite me to unleash the anxieties of day-to-day life. You allowed me to carpe diem and enjoy the present. In you, it doesn’t feel like the world is on fire. You are my consolation when a pandemic is raging and on days when my two-year-old won’t nap. In your space, there has been cherished laughter and conversations, likewise, silent moments to ponder. 

Thank you for being a great host and comforting shelter for countless hours. We look forward to our future visits and creating more memories together. 

Sincerely, 
Kara