Sunrise, sunset.

As some of you may know, the past couple months have not been easy on me. The Big Girl Job has been tough in ways I was unprepared for, and I’m learning that from here on out, I’m going to need to be my own cheerleader and figure out ways to cope—on my own—with situations I don’t like or don’t feel comfortable in.

Aside from locking myself in a secluded office with my headphones jammed deep into my ears, I’ve come up with a few new coping mechanisms that have made the last few weeks bearable, one of which involved a simple rerouting of my commute.

As a daughter of Michigan, water plays a role in some of my most prominent life experiences. I remember shuffling through sea grass on Lake Huron, learning to water ski on Chippewa Lake, and having my first kiss with a lifeguard on the Au Sable River. Michigan waters run through me, and I feel most at ease at the end of my family’s dock, toes dipped into Chippewa.

When I moved to Chicago, I was obsessed with the idea of spending a day on the beach, gazing to the horizon and experiencing Lake Michigan from the other side. When I finally made it happen, I was unimpressed with the oversized palm trees, grimy foam buildup and lack of seashells. This wasn’t the Lake Michigan I know.

Last week, a wrong turn brought me back to the lake, and as I looked out to its icy caps and snowy shore, it didn’t look all that different from home.

I started taking this roundabout way to work. Rather then going deeper in to the city before heading north, I loop around to Lake Shore Drive, and follow the shoreline up to Evanston then back inland. I breathe easier when I take this way. It relaxes me, and makes me feel a little more at home.

The homes in that part of Evanston are spectacular. For my G Rap friends—think East on steroids. Turn-of-the-century mansions line tree-canopied streets, monoliths rising out of concrete, backs turned to the lake.

I noticed a few days ago the difference between the towns along Michigan’s west coast, and Evanston: Evanston doesn’t revolve around Lake Michigan.

Towns like Grand Haven, Holland, Pentwater and Traverse City pay constant homage to Michigan’s watery namesake, with homes peering delicately into the water, building up into dunes to get a better look. Homes seem constantly sandy, in a refreshing summery way…like the prickle of a suntan that lasts all year long.

Evanstonians, though, don’t seem to pay much mind to their aquatic border. Not like Michiganders, who wander the shoreline year round.

Maybe that’s what I enjoy so much about mornings these days—the drive to work seems private and quiet and peaceful. Like finding something I’d lost in the move. Even though I’m counting the hours until next Tuesday, I think I’ll make that trek along the shore routine, because now it’s time to make some new memories on Lake Michigan, only this time, from the sunrise side.