Glen Ellyn feels so hopeful this time of year. The oak trees bend over the streets to make tunnels, the air smells like lilacs, and the nighttime fireflies fill the sky after dusk. At the boathouse, small kids sit at the edge of the dock, fishing poles in hand, packed lunches set against leaning bikes. In the park, there's a lemonade stand, a game of kick-the-can, the old man from down the street sitting on a bench with the local newspaper. From where you stand, you can see your house, your castle of a high school, your favorite climbing tree, and your initials etched into a wooden post beside a heart, his name.
There's nothing quite like it, being so knee-deep in your past, and after spending just a few days in my cozy hometown, I feel more than a little restored. Sometimes you have to take a quick time out, a break from the everyday to see your friends and laugh with your family. To soak up what's familiar.