Memories of childhood vacations.

The Grand Motor Inn. The Pinnacle. The Golden Eagle. The ritual of arriving in Vermont was pure bliss. We stopped at the IGA for provisions. Those huge, delicious sandwiches became the most delightful first meal of vacation time. It seemed like the days ahead could possibly stretch into eternity. There were always toys to grab as well, or beach balls to play with in the pool.

The kitchenette became the gathering place of arrivals and of our evening meals and midnight snacks. All we needed fit right there. All that was delightful and fresh and new as though we could make an entire, abundant and rich buffet come out of that tiny space. Everything tasted better. And the cleaning up after provided a heartwarming family vignette, unlike anything
experienced in our daily life at home.

Chat and laughter. A sense of easy friendship, safety, lightheartedness. Never to be forgotten. A gift. All that is left. And it’s enough. And I live here now.