Monday, June 12, 2006
Going Back Home
I grew up in a city about 5 miles north of Boston. Its a city with a rich history in ship building and rum making. The Mystic River was a salt water river with tides when I was a child. Somewhere along the way they built a damn and locks which changed everything.
It was fun going back and seeing all the old familiar sights, but now I felt like a tourist. Camera in hand I took pictures of the park I played in, the streets I walked my doll carriage down and the city square where we shopped and where my father often directed traffic early in his police career. Everything looked so much smaller to me. The front lawn, the sidewalks, the trees but the houses all like mansions compared to Texas homes.
One thing that struck me this time on my trip home, it all felt a bit like visiting Europe.
People walking everywhere, sidewalk cafe's, small shops, the wonderful smells from bakeries and little restaurants.
My time in Massachusetts is winding down and its almost a mad rush to hit the spots I have not been to yet.
Today was Sushi, Starbucks and Whole Foods. Tomorrow, Indian food one more time.
It is a silent sort of morning, sitting next to the wood stove in my rocker, watching the birds outside my windo...