As you may have noticed, I had a bit of a break in writing for a number of reasons. My apologies. I can do that from time to time. In part, I needed to reset & assess my patterns of behavior in order to improve my overall well-being, sort of a life cleanse you could say. Related to this, I’ve been making some seismic shifts in my day-to-day routine which have caused me to focus on myself–finding a range of activities to alleviate stress & anxiety, improving my overall happiness. As my career continues to develop, I’ve needed to devote time to things like achieving a new certification as a professional Change Management Practitioner, working on new major initiatives during a massive institutional reorganization, & setting up the groundwork for building a new team. I’ve also been trying to be more present in the moment, rather than focus so much on pondering the past. Yet, despite my efforts, the past remains with me as it does for most of us, especially for introverts who spend copious amounts of time replaying events & over-analyzing, trying to understand them like me. Stress management becomes a major part of all of this, & life coaching has helped me immensely. I’ve been drawing, coloring, reflecting.

Recently, I had the pleasure of returning back to New England, my longtime home since childhood. One place in particular holds incredible, almost inexpressible, import for me–a place where I find myself & connect to people I’ve lost, people I will forever love, like my father & brother.

An exciting element of this trip to my favorite place, Rockport, MA, involved sharing my childhood loves with my own son, & connecting to my childhood best friend & having our sons play together on the beach where we ourselves used to play as kids. I felt very much like E.B. White in Once More to the Lake, where I saw myself in my son playing with my best friend in her son, losing a sense of time & place despite being so connected to the moment. Could 36 years really have passed? How is it that my core self, my inner child, still feels like that little girl playing on that beach, despite all of the years that have passed? What is time, anyway? Can we measure the intangible self & consciousness with concepts like time on an eternal scale? So many things passed through my mind. And to add even more significance, I observed a gorgeous rainbow directly over my special place, The Headlands, during my first night there. Strange, the feelings I experienced in a cosmic sense, in a place where I would dream & imagine & transport myself into fantastical landscapes. Perhaps the fact that The Goonies was released during the summer I’d move away colored my imagined sense of that special spot, where I’d imagine pirate ships & treasure & secret tunnels or caves?

Whatever the cause, my imagination holds a very special place for this childhood haunt. My soul is continually drawn back, & my hope is to one day retire & move back there, to enjoy my final days in a place that’s provided me with such a sense of magic for decades.

Each time I walk out from Bearskin Neck to The Headlands, which sits at the end of Atlantic Avenue where I used to live, I take mental note of all of the special places I loved along the way, revisiting each in my memory, to contrast/compare what they used to look like with how they appear now. It’s difficult to convey, even to myself, why this place has such a hold on me. But it does. It’s as if I’ve anchored my soul there, & no other place can compare. (Only England can come close to this kind of connection.) There are few people I could even express this to & feel heard or have the sentiment resonate. I know my childhood best friend does get it, & we make time for each other during each annual visit. We kept in touch like that even after I had moved away. My parents would bring me to Rockport, & I’d go to her grandmother’s house, hoping to find her there–and often I would. Heather was my first true best friend, & one of the only people I vividly remembered–along with Kirsten & Kara.

It’s weird. My mind lingers on strange things recalled, like secret Santa gifts or books ordered through Scholastic fairs & lesson units tied to the ocean, music, or theater. The years spent in Rockport are among the most vivid I can recall from childhood, denoting its importance in my conception of self.

As things change in this place–like the sad closures of Ellen’s restaurant & the children’s bookstore Toad Hall, this past winter–I’m reminded that life is fleeting, that the things I try to cling to can disappear all too quickly. Maybe that’s why I come back, again & again. I remember people & things I love here. And it’s tied up in 80s music & moments of wonder, nostalgia for games, computers, films, fashion–all of it. I recently saw an episode of Black Mirror called “San Junipero” & the central characters are drawn back to this simulacrum environment set in the 80s for those at the end of life, people who want to become permanently transported to a synthetic environment to live together for eternity in this place & time that they love. Two consciousnesses meet there, & the score was so haunting & beautiful that I’ve been listening to it. It’s tonal & ethereal & beautiful. Weird to think that the characters wouldn’t be that much older than me in this place in the future that could achieve such things. Would I opt for such a thing, myself, in the future? Who could say?

And, so, I’m left thinking. Wondering. Introverting. Considering. Considering my attachment to place & time & what it all means. I don’t really have any answers, in all candor, but I’ll circle back at some point. For now, it’s enough to know the profundity of it all & try to work out some of it for myself, however I can. Maybe it’s enough to know that I don’t know. Maybe it’s enough to just feel, experience, appreciate that attachment. Preserve it.