This past weekend, my husband took me to a little corner of the east coast that juts out to touch the water. It’s the place we first went to after being newly engaged. It’s the place where we got married. Where we sought solace after losing an unborn child. Where we go to sip good, red wine and take pictures of the grapes that make that possible. It’s the place we drive to when we need calm. It’s the place we head to each year the last weekend in September to walk between the same vines where we stood and said our vows. It’s where we feel good and happy. Where we eventually got pregnant. Where we watch boats rock back and forth, clinking into one another and then going static, without saying a word. It’s the place we brought our family to, so they could feel it, too. And our daughter following that, shortly after she was born.
And as long as it’s there, we will keep going back. There are a lot of milestones yet to reach, moments to celebrate, memories to be made and sadness to endure. It’s the place we will always know how to get to by heart. And it’s a happy place to have.