Every once in a while I take inventory of my life. It gives me a chance to see what I have, instead of what I want or think I need. It is the opportunity to be grateful for the things I take for granted every day. When my husband and I first bought our house, I cried, not tears of joy, but of fear … There was so much to be done, we didn’t know anyone, and it was a slow little cranberry bog town on the way to the Cape. And six and a half years later …
I love where I live. I think this as I get up and look out my window on my quiet dead end street. My town has its issues and one or two of the neighbors might not be ideal, but for the most part, I have no complaints. In the days from early spring to late fall I jog the Cape Cod Canal. There is something so magical about watching the sun rise over such a beautiful scene. There are mornings the fog is so thick you can’t see the large tug and barge less than 100 feet away, but you can feel its vibrations, and hear its low rumble as it pushes its way to the open ocean.
I grew up with an ocean view, and although I can’t see the water from my house, the beach is a short walk for my kids and me. We were lucky enough to buy at the right time, and have a nice little Cape-style house, a hedged-in front yard and an even bigger back yard. The house fits our family of five, complete with dog and mini-van. Our yard is crowded with the plastic play sets and slides. I can open my front door let the kids and the dog out front and happily enjoy a cup of coffee with out fear. On hot summer days the sprinkler, the kids next door and a few neighbors become fixtures in the yard. There is music at the band stand, just a short walk down town on Thursday nights during the summer. The town turns out with snacks and blankets, bats and balls; we resemble a Norman Rockwell painting with the rail road bridge towering behind the gazebo. On nights the heat makes it to hot to walk, we can hear it from my front porch where my neighbor and I sip our evening cocktail.



























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