They day before we were leaving Quincy, it was the Mr’s birthday and we decided to celebrate the only way we know how: by hitting the town and seeing what Quincy had to offer. By pure accident, we stumbled upon The Drunk Brush – a wonderful little Italian bar run by Ricco from Naples (the real one, in Italy). The drinks were excellent, the servings generous, and the atmosphere… well, the kind that makes you want to cancel all your plans and just stay there forever.

On our way over, in the parking lot, we met Grandma Kitchens (yes, that’s sort of her real name – or at least what everyone calls her), whose son runs The Toys Store on Main Street (they have ice-cream!). In typically American fashion, she complimented my hairstyle (something that doesn’t happen often enough to go unnoticed). When she returned inside, the Mr., who is far more sociable than me, had already started a conversation with her friend Amber and naturally myself and grandma Kitchen joined in. After a while, more and more people were drawn into the laughter and conversation.

To be totally honest, our visit to my beloved USA was somewhat bittersweet. The biggest takeaway from the trip wasn’t the scenery – even though it was stunning – but the warmth of the people. A reminder that while democracy may feel fragile on the national stage, the everyday decency of people – the ones showing up, helping out, talking to strangers – is still very much alive.

By the time we left The Drunken Brush (somewhat uneasy as Amber had quietly taken our tab and as a Swede, or just as Louise – I don’t feel comfortable with someone paying for me), I felt lighter. Being human is simple, it ‘s about being open, curious and – human.

Afterward, we went for pizza at Leon & Roys Family Pizzeria, to celebrate Mr.’s birthday, and by coincidence (or maybe not), Fabian’s whole soccer team arrived to celebrate their victory over Lake Tahoe. When we got up to leave, the team suddenly started singing Happy Birthday – loudly, joyfully, and not totally off key, for my husband 🥹. It was that same openness again – spontaneous, sincere, and a little contagious.

Walking back through the quiet street(s), full of pizza, wine, and humanity, I kept thinking about how these small, unplanned, sincere moments are what keep us human. Meeting people. Talking. Lowering our guard. That’s how we survive – not just as individuals, but as a species. This is what is going to prevail.

The true luxury in life isn’t money, likes or perfection – it’s connection.