By-the-sea. An official part of the town’s name. It held promise, excitement and anticipation. Wonder and exploration.
Those hopes never materialized.
Hiking to Agassiz Rock or running along towards the cliff to the water in Magnolia, I knew I was merely running away.
When living someplace other than where I was born, I get a feeling of constantly traveling. Even mundane excursions are mini trips. Grocery stores hold constant wonder at the different fare on offer, especially the little gourmet shop in Beverly Farms with half its space devoted to prepared foods I would never see out West. No matter how long I’ve been in a place, I always experience the memory of dislocation, of newness, of not belonging.
I’ve never belonged anywhere. The constant refrain, “So, where are you from?” is not merely a pinprick of ignorance, it is an accusation.
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