Heading Home

Its hard to say exactly whether the mountains in New Hampshire and Vermont are part of the Adirondacks or the Appalachian Mountains. Either way, they are beautiful, gentle, blue, green and violet even in the early spring. The road from Dartmouth leads you from dizzying heights down to the depths of valleys and everywhere inbetween.

Though I enjoy the mountains, I like some space between peaks. The mountains I was driving through to get home felt tight and enclosing. I left the conference a bit early just to make sure I was out of them before dark. My rental car seemed to slide with ease down the mountainsides, slithering around hairpin turns, racing along river edges, as eager as I to escape before dark set in.
I thought of the people who live in the tiny towns and villages all along the route I was traveling. Interstate highway has a whole new meaning here. Some places catered to tourist trade, offer quaint inns, b&b's, antique shops, craft stores. Some were just sleepy little villages with tired post offices and leftovers of old grocery store chains next to one story schools and the inevitable church with towering steeple pointing the way to God and out of the mountains.

As I traveled along, I alternately listened to a book on CD, and drank in the purr of the car as I silently reflected on what it would be like to live in such places. I am happy where I am though my lifestyle is not particularly quiet or slow paced. I like access to stores and concerts, parks and lakes, friends and family. Yes, I can appreciate what New England has to offer in so many others ways and places, but I am happy where I am. Which is good since that is where I am!

Though I am tired, though my poor body seems to tire so easily and want to call it a day earlier than ever, I draw on the strength of the good Lord and head my weary soul for home. I know I will soon lay my head on my own pillow and rest.