Back To My Roots

It all started in a coffee shop—the kind of romance you only lovingly receive from yourself, with help from those around you. 

The slow, early mornings of soft jazz in the background, the comfortably dim lighting that made way for dawn's breaking, the all-encompassing scent of freshly brewed joe and pastries... This was my life for a year and a half; my most transformational year and a half to date. Clinging to self-doubt and introspection, I blossomed through and through within these four walls. Countless crying fits in the reading nook, several irritated bursts misplaced at my superiors, and the kind of laughter that hurt your insides while tears stream down your face from joy. The amount of laughter had here in just eighteen months could fill Soldier Field. 

I subconsciously radiated with youth here. I watched as so many others encountered this very same phenomena—pure silliness pouring from our mannerisms, random dance sessions with my colleagues, and the way we’d reminisce with total strangers about “the good old days.” The people beyond the bar, the passerbys, became as much a part of our family as the one we formed from behind the bar. There were no lines, no boundaries—only love. 

This little cafe housed so much hope, so effortlessly. It was inescapable to feel free here; free to be yourself, free to love, free to dream… I found my heart in a coffee shop, and it doesn’t surprise me that upon returning to this very place, I’ve returned to myself when I so desperately needed to, without even knowing it. 

I am reminded of the dreams that were born here, of the love that grew from friendships, the hard truths that had to be faced here. Never alone, I might add. 

The sense of community that reaches down through the roots and to the core of the earth beneath this structure on the corner of Park and Adell is unmatched, yet plentiful. It extends to every energetic body that crosses the threshold of its glass door with a hug and a back rub. There is magic here, and there is magic elsewhere, because that which is born of love cannot help but radiate mystic brilliance. 

I suppose that is my purpose—to allow this kind of magic to thrive and live on. 

How will I do this?

Through love, obviously. Beyond that, I'm unsure. But I welcome the real possibility that something will come to me, begging for some love to be poured into it. And I will welcome it with open arms, a back rub and tight squeeze in tow. 

Your dearest friend,

Shannon