vermont- memories

When you see the sign at the border welcoming you to Vermont, you're not close to Grammie and Bumpa's yet. Sure, it's been ten hours since you left home, but it's not until you see your name on the green house sign on the left a couple of hours later, that you know you're close. Then you only have a couple hundred feet before you'll be out of the van for good and smothered in kisses.

It's been eight years since I've been to Vermont. Divorce has changed it, moved my favorite humans around. Now, no one lives in the house I'm referring to when I say "their house." The store isn't open anymore. The grass is too high.

Still, it was the same. Children were playing in the stream that leads to the waterfall, and the sun was mixed with a summer breeze. Our sledding hill was still tall, and everything in Cabot is just as close together as I remember. Lots of open spaces between things, but all of my memories are on the same road. I'm glad we got to go and see it; that little spot of earth that was so special to me as a child.

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