New York Times. There is something about place that pulls us.
Yesterday I walked down to the bay and visited a small organic farm stand before walking back through town. How I miss that small town experience where the gal at the farm stand called my mother by name and chatted with all her customers. Last night at a fund raising dinner, my dad knew many of the donors and guests. Today watching a boat race, he could identify various boats and their owners. Mom has cousins here, dad spent his summers here growing up; everyone knows everyone else. Yet, they are open and friendly.
There is only one blinking traffic light in this whole town. Yesterday I went for a bike ride and enjoyed the warm sun even as I struggled to peddle into the wind. There is a familiar smell when I return to this town and so many memories associated with being here. The views and fresh air are invigorating. The sun sparkling on the water, the breeze rustling the trees and picking up to create white caps. I feel alive in this place.