I’ve been out of touch for a while.
See, first my friend Sean came to visit. We had a great time, traipsing about New England, climbing mountains, canoeing, going to the circus, talking about books, and all that good stuff. Then I went home. Then I lost my camera cable.
And that was a problem, because what I really wanted to show you was pictures. Pictures of home, in the summer.
I don’t remember feeling this way last year, but right now, my heart is on Highbridge Road. I often wish the rest of me was there too.
When I was home last week, I spent a morning walking around the farm taking pictures. It was a beautiful morning and I knew that the photos would capture the feeling of home that I miss so much.
I love all of the old things we have. The old house, the old barn, the old truck. They are old because they have been loved and grown up with.
I also love the feeling of quiet. You can be peaceful without even having to seek it out, to isolate yourself and shut the door.
Things are growing up and out, overgrowing, aging, devouring and entangling. Fences disappear. Views are obscured. I idly threatened to take a saw out and cut down some saplings, but all of this growth doesn’t actually bother me.
I love all this. But of course the last great thing about being home is my parents. I think I have finally reached a level of adulthood where I am not ashamed to say that I love them, not ashamed to go home to see them, not threatened by what it means about my independence to do all of this. Did you read that article in the New York Times about twenty-somethings? Thanks Mom and Dad, for everything, and for letting me live my crazy life, figure things out, and still come back home when I need you. I swear I’ll wear that suit you gave me to an interview one of these years…
Stay tuned for more posts, I have a backlog to be published.