I was walking my dog last night
and I had this flashback to my house in New Hampshire
but not the summer NH that I've bee seeing for 5 years,
but the spring NH that's different.
The air smells like those exoskeletons
of weird-ass bugs that used to creep me out
until I was 10
and I stopped having to look at them.
I haven't been there in the spring since we moved,
but it's still just as important to us.
That place hold so many memories
because it's not like on of those houses
that your parents buy to vacation in
when you're in your 20's
and moved out of the house.
It's one of those houses
that you grew up in,
and after moving across the country,
it's one of the only things that stays a constant.
And it's home.
When I was little,
I never really understood how beautiful it was,
I just thought it was a cool place
to build forts
and make fairy houses
and go fishing off the dock.
But it's so much more than that.
This is where I go
to test my strength
let go from the things holding me back in California,
remember the times when I was younger
and see how much I've grown over the years.
I'm twice as old now as I was when we bought Hurricane Camp,
And I'm twice as wise now too.