Greek Fest

It smells like Greek Fest.

As I enjoyed the holiday afternoon, sitting out on my porch reading, faint waftings of outdoor cooking, summer games, multi-cultural voices and cheerful music teased my senses into thinking I was somewhere else - in a lawn chair on my patio, perhaps, reading contentedly as the festivities commenced two blocks away. I was close enough to hear them, enjoying them vicariously through the laughter I heard, but also contented knowing that I could participate if I chose to, and with only a 5 minute walk between me and that contagious laughter I could hear. It smelled like I was at home, and Greek Fest was being celebrated right down the street.

And suddenly I was homesick.

I have never been homesick. I missed my friends and my family when I moved, of course, as anyone would. Yet I always found contentment where I was, and that always sufficed. I never felt the need to run home because of lonliness or defeat; I simply was where I was at that time, and that was where I was supposed to be. And most of the time I loved it.

But today, something inside of me longed to turn around and see that familiar family friend at the park, or the parent of some kid I went to gradeschool with. (in Milwaukee, you always meet someone you went to gradeschool with at the fireworks). And I love it up here! I really do! I love everything about the Twin Cities, but today, I was at the "Wirth Park" of St. Paul and I only knew the one person I was with. I watched reunions with old friends and new, and enjoyed food and laughter, music and celebration, but it wasn't the same. And fo some reason this brings fear to my heart.

I think it has to do with moving again. Moving means new friends, new parks, new traditions, new ways to celebrate holidays... but I fear that I won't sense reward in that. It's pretty ridiculous the way I let my heart get so tangled up with this fear business... it's not healthy at all... but days like today just make me nostalgic - and when that starts, there's just no stopping me :)

But nevertheless, the nostalgia makes me appreciate what I've been given -the positive memories that define my childhood. I'm not at the Lakefront now, or at Wirth Park, but the sights and smells remind me of the seasons of life, the times to move on.

And there's no doubt in my mind that the next season will be just as wonderful as the last...