Toasted Marshmallow Nutella Sandwich Cookies: homemade toasted marshmallow sandwiched between chewy Nutella cookies!

I’m a city girl at heart. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the country. I am more than happy being by the sea or in the mountains. I enjoy the outdoors and going on adventures. And quiet summer nights looking up at a clear sky calm me like nothing else. But my soul will always crave the stimulation of a big city.

I wasn’t always this way. Or at least I didn’t discover I was until the age of 18.

I had just received a scholarship to NYU. Consequently, the school flew me and 75 other promising seniors from all over the country to visit. The entire weekend was promised to be sensational, with talks from various deans, group activities, exploring the city, and tons and tons of food. NYU had always been on my college list and I liked it, but I had never had a burning desire to go to school in New York City. Still, I happily accepted the trip and went down for a weekend.

Friday was fun. We toured the school, had a delicious dinner, and partied with our ‘mentor’ upperclassmen. I fell asleep feeling excited for the next day.

I woke up groggily on Saturday morning. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.

Silence. Overcast morning light streaming through the windows. The room had that indescribable morningness to it, as if the walls, too, were asleep.

As I lifted my head from my pillow, I heard a quiet but detectable hum. I squinted up at the sky and listened closer.

Voices.

A horn.

Dogs barking.

A car door shutting.

The noises from the city flooded through the window in a blanketed buzz.

Here I was, experiencing both the silent sanctuary of my room and the pervasive hum of life around me. I felt comforted by my covers and stimulated by the fact that I, too, was part of that hum. Not necessarily at that moment, but in every door I opened or word I spoke. I was a part of the city.

I get the same feeling when looking up between high rises, or traveling in a cab down a busy street. Cities are a constant reminder that I am a part of something bigger. I get lost in the anonymity of them, and for a moment, I am more than myself.

It’s something that I’ve missed in the last four years of living in Michigan. I’ve had my fair share of cries coming home from visiting Boston, New York, and Chicago. After living in a small town for four years, I frequently think back to that morning in New York. And to so many other mornings, waking up to the electric buzz of life around me.

I miss it more than ever.

So guess what, friends? I’m moving back to the city. To Boston, to be exact. I can’t wait to be near my family again, and to be in a place that feels like home. That is home.

I’ll miss Alex’s and my favorite restaurant in town, my yoga studio, and many other things that I’ve enjoyed in these four years in Michigan. But it’s been a long time coming, and I’m finally listening to what I need.

And if people ask why I feel this way? All I can say is that it’s more than myself.

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