We all have one. That place where we feel full, where long-past memories merge with current joys. Where we return to again when the days are long and sometimes overwhelming.

When our reserves are empty, and arms are weary, we have a place. When we hit a wall so hard that our face feels bruised, we can go there. It brings us refreshment and makes us smile again.

So while thoughts are many and sometimes compounding, I am going there in my mind.

This is my place. And these are my people.

And I’ll just say it again. I love New England. (In the summer, anyway.)

So, where is your place?

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.

-John Keats, English poet

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