Were you born in a place where you didn’t grow up?
But when you visit that place, or see a photo, you feel a slightly intense connection?
I was born in Rhode Island, then my family moved away when I was 5.
Over the years, I’ve been back only a handful of times.
But each time I visit, I enter a time warp… where the 400 miles of inlets and harbors and bays become deeply familiar in a hazy sort of way.
Flashes of sitting in the back seat of our family station wagon on the way to feed the ducks or see the fireworks or go to kindergarten in Barrington, where we lived, spark memories and gentle feelings of what used to be.
Last month, my husband and I were invited to a fairy tale wedding in Newport, Rhode Island…
where we also made time to visit the Green Animals Topiary Garden
at the charming Brayton Estate
after making a stop at Flo’s world-famous clam shack
followed by a day on the ferry
over to Block Island
where we had a drink on the same veranda as Ulysses S. Grant, Mark Twain, and a Kennedy or two… or three or four.
And as we left Rhode Island, the fog of childhood memories lifted like waking from an old familiar dream, forever woven – deeply, sweetly, vaguely – into my life.