Dax
As I pack my things, I should feel sad. Taking a moment to look out at the view of Chicago from the office I coveted only months ago, I see the city from a different perspective. I still see its beauty, but I also see it as I never have. The floor-to-ceiling windows are no longer simply panes of glass but the equivalent to bars on a prison cell.
The constant battle to climb the ladder of success is all-consuming in a way I was blinded to—or more likely refused to admit. I witnessed that climb as a child, watching both my parents. By the world's standards they are successes in their own right. They made millions and are now living their dream in sunny Florida. Spending days at the country club playing golf is what they have to show for that climb.
When I was young, my parents rarel
