When there’s a gap of close to 40 years between the time your family moved away from the house you grew up in and the time you move back to it (having made a sudden and life-altering decision to purchase it), you are bound to have forgotten some things about that childhood place. But the wondrous thing about returning all those years later is that every now and then, with no warning, you get reminded of one of them. And it takes you back.
That’s what happened to me this past Sunday, a crisp, sunny day here in Queensborough. As I gazed out a window in the middle of the afternoon, I realized I had completely forgotten the beauty of the long blue shadows that the trees cast on the snow of the Manse’s back yard on such a day.
It could as easily have been December 1973 as December 2013. And that unexpected moment of timelessness felt comforting. And just right.