I often take Vermont’s healing powers for granted after living here 6 years. This particular summer has been one of the most beautiful–languid sunsets, layers upon layers of green mountains, fecund air and exploding gardens. Everything seems…happy.
Last night, I had dinner with my Dad. I’m usually filled with anxiety right before he arrives and the past seems to choke me in its grip. Now, I’m 40 years old. I know my strength. It’s taken many years to heal from childhood wounds. Yet when Dad arrives, it’s like I haven’t moved an inch. At least that’s the illusion, the imprint, my mind holds. I feel small. More »
