The ocean is a place that holds significant memories for both me and my family.
I think of trips to Block Island, Rhode Island-- dried hydrangeas in shop windows and bike rides with views of tall windswept grass leading to cliffs that drop to the ocean. I think of visits to Beavertail in Jamestown, of fun evenings and live music in Newport. Walks along streets lined with homes from the 1700s and decorated in a history that is both real and rooted and invented by my imagination, which is always recreating lives already lived in an effort to make better sense of my own. (History repeats itself, they say.) In the end, it’s all rose-colored and better because the past always is, even when it’s our own.Read More