There was a time when I loved coffee house concerts – the closeness of the crowd, the hum of conversation, the feeling of being part of something happening right then. They held a certain magic for me once.
But somewhere along the way, that changed.
Now, I find myself more drawn to the quiet of home. I’d rather spend an evening with a book open on my lap, yarn in my hands, or something warm rising in the oven. These slower rhythms feel more nourishing than noise ever did.
Outgrowing something doesn’t always mean it lost its value. Sometimes it simply means we’ve changed. Our needs shift. Our nervous systems learn what feels safe and restoring. What once energized us may no longer fit the season we’re in.
There’s no regret in this – only recognition. A gentle honoring of who I was, and an equally gentle honoring of who I have become.