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
(1795-1821)
(1795-1821)
