Pick a place, any place…

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.

– Joan Didion

If I could travel, anywhere, any time, any place, where would it be?


Yesterday we traveled, not far from here, through the downtown area, over the railroad tracks. After a few more stop lights and one more stop sign, we turned onto a long and winding road. I actually drove this road in my mind all throughout the day today. There were large old Oak trees sporadically strewn on either end of the street, allowing a nice dark green canopy as we leaned a soft, gentle curve to the left, another to the right.

The sky was a perfect light grey, with the clouds hovering into the mix, allowing for a perfect backdrop against the bright crisp green landscape.

Hardly a driveway or habitant blemished the serene landscape as we drove to our destination, final turn to our right. A small little neighborhood, with a cluster of homes spaced out, glorious architecture, regal and majestic, long, spacious driveways and beautifully manicured lawns. As we drove up the slight incline to the cul-de-sac lot, there sat this complete forest of green. Untouched wilderness, with a slight gravel drive sprinkled at the entrance as though to say, “can you see your path etched into the stillness of this yet unbroken masterpiece?”

The road descended into this one location. Almost on instinct, I could nearly hear the creek bubbling behind the trees, tightly protecting this little piece of heaven, yet inviting me to step within this earth and establish the dream I have always longed to provide to my souls.

“This is it, I said.”

“I want this, right here.” I could already envision the street hockey games in the late summer evenings, the laughter on the back porch as we set,enjoying our private little forest. The feeling of home, solitude, peace and serenity.

I have not yet been able to shake the image, the energy that quickly captured me into this dream. My own Celestine image, whispering to me throughout the day to make sure, with each step, I am paving the path to this life, waiting at the end of the cul-de-sac.

 Writing 101: Day 2 – Room with a View


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