We moved our kids from a small town to Chicago. They're more independent, and we have more to do.

Last weekend felt almost comically Chicago. On Saturday morning, I took my two young kids and our dog to our closest neighborhood park, then walked over to Mindy's for coffee and a raspberry pastry. (Worth the line!)

Later, a friend texted. Her parents' friends had a boat, and did we want to come out on Lake Michigan? A few hours later, we were swimming off the boat and eating cheese and charcuterie as the sun set over the skyline. After dark, fireworks lit up the sky.

The next morning was the Bucktown Arts Fest, a few blocks from our house. My daughter spotted her kindergarten teacher dressed as Mother Goose and sat down to hear her read stories. The kids got glittery dogs painted on their faces. Our neighbors offered to watch them so I could explore for a bit; I wandered through booths of crafts, maps, and jewelry, and bought a few prints of cheese plates.

By Sunday evening, I felt a rush of gratitude for this life we had built.

My husband and I were tried-and-true New Yorkers before we had kids. In the first weeks of the pandemic, when New York was the epicenter of COVID, we left the city thinking we were only escaping for a little while. Our daughter was born that April.

Months later, what had started as a temporary retreat became something more permanent: we moved to that small rural town in New Jersey and began building our family life there. At the time, the quiet and space felt like exactly what we needed.

Five years later, that baby was getting ready to start kindergarten, her 3-year-old brother was headed to preschool, and the world had changed.

When my husband got a job in Chicago, city life suddenly became possible again. I work for myself, so my work could come with us.

Add BI in Google so our reporting is easier to find when you’re searching for what matters.

On paper, moving seemed backward. We had a house, a yard, quiet streets, and plenty of space — all the things families are supposedly chasing.

But our town had one coffee shop, one playground, and only a handful of families with young kids. If everyone was busy, which felt like all the time, that was kind of it.

I realized how much I missed the energy of city life: walking out the door without knowing exactly what might happen, having choices, seeing people. There was plenty of physical space around us, yet my own world felt smaller.