craving

I take a lot of pride in the fact that I’m from Cleveland, Ohio. Some days it’s pride in the city and the people; a salt of the earth community that supports one another. Other days, it’s the fact that I grew up with so much access to open space in nature, with trails, forests, fields, swing sets, backyard barbecues, Fourth of July sparklers, and summer night bonfires.

I keep coming back to the nostalgia of growing up in Cleveland, what that meant to me and it’s immense importance to me as an adult. I had a long talk with a friend this week about what an impact where we were raised has on us and how we cope when life slows down. How weekends spent having bonfires in a backyard or popping by a friend’s house for Saturday morning breakfast after a hike made us adults who crave that sense of community, that sense of simplicity.

We’re faced with choices of what is important to us every day — how we spend our money, our time, where we choose to be and travel to, and who we choose to surround ourselves with. The sum of those parts create our immediate world and the foundation for our immediate happiness. Time and age has led to me to crave the quiet, including more simplicity, less hustle and bustle, and more focus on places and people. The peace of a life filled with joyful moments with those you love.

Maybe it’s the small town in me that never truly left. Maybe it’s the simple fact that life comes down to the people you love, how you treated them and how you spent your time. Maybe I’m just reaching for glimmers of that rose-tinted world. The restaurants where they know you by name and ask about your family, the magic hour to walk through your neighborhood listening to the birds, and admiring the way the light shines through the trees. Listening to both the mundane and beautiful parts of your best friend‘s day. Listening to the hard parts of their day, the moments that caused them strife and supporting them through that. Finding joy in knowing your history, and savoring that moment.

Which brings me back to the start of this. Craving the smell and sight of a sparkler waving through the dusky summer evening air. That feeling of getting out on a river and plunging into the cool water. The haze of sitting in Adirondack chairs with a fire crackling, just shooting the breeze with your friends. The joy of an afternoon at the pool, no schedule but the height of the sun. The feeling of sitting on your parents’ deck, surrounded by plants and twinkle lights, pouring a glass of wine, and seeing how far you’ve come, and how close to home you’ve stayed. That’s the simplicity of life I crave. That moment where everything aligns, you’re with the people who mean the most, you’re at peace, and you’re happy.