Summer always reminds me of my roots. Dirt roads, country music, sweaty coffee shop shifts that ended with ice-blended lattes, and days upon days at the lake. My soul longs for peace in the sticks.
But here I am...living in the city. And I love the city. I love our 1920's brownstone apartment with its quirky little kitchen and awkward porcelain sink. I love that my neighbors are diverse and eclectic...hipsters, homeboys, and halos alike. I love that within a 10 block radius is my favorite coffee shop, the pizza joint with the best baked potato pizza that has ever graced my 'buds, and a quaint bistro that does date night on the cheap. I love the lakes and trails where I've run hundreds - if not thousands - of miles...and that in this city people move. I love that real food is available at the co-op up the road, and the farmer's market is just a short jaunt past that. I love that theaters and music venues abound. I love that I have friends and neighbors who raise chickens along a bus line and grow food in their backyards. I love that sustainable and economical living is a value, and creation is cared for. I love that I don't have to be anybody because in the sea of people I'm not anybody, but I have a community who knows me intimately and I don't lack connection. I simply love this place.
Yet, I love the quiet of the country.
A couple weekends ago I traveled to the north shore of Lake Superior with some girlfriends. We stayed in a family-owned bunkhouse that welcomed us home. We read books and worked on a puzzle in the common area - which was really a warm and comfortable living room with a grand fireplace and deep leather furniture - while old country-rock-something good music filled the room and showers watered the earth outside. We spoke little and absorbed the peace of the simplicity. No TV. Phones? Forget it. We were away. We were unplugged. We lived that weekend so well.
Some days I lament over the reality that I have only one life to live. I feel at home in the country, and I feel home in the city. Both I love and both I hate. Sometimes I wonder how I would live this life if I knew I had another. Which would I choose? Where would my soul find rest?
Today I want the sticks. I want my roots. Summer has a way of doing that. But summer also has a way of bringing out the beauty of the city. It's complicated, this problem I have.
How does a person decide?
