No place that I'd rather be.

Every once and a while I take an inventory of my life. This morning seems like a good time to do that. The reason is the state that I live in. I awoke to a very cool breeze.
Yesterday was very warm. Warm, not the hot baking days of late July and August that let us know how a cookie feels during its birth pangs. I went to bed with just a little moisture emanating from me in the warmth. I awoke this morning with the need to put on a blanket.
I began thinking of how lucky I am to live in Massachusetts. This state is beautiful and green and civilized. There are very few bugs, no tornados, no racial crisises, no mass murderers, and no conspiracy devotees. It is a peaceful place with Simpson-like skies and people that genuinely enjoy living among other people. We have problems just like other people but they are rarely of a scope to make national news.
Massachusetts was the home of John Eliot and John Hancock and Horace Mann. It is also the birthplace of the Fig Newton. It is also the home of many fine institutions of learning and fine hospitals and the home of Big Poppie.
I live in a typical New England small town. There are four churches within walking distance of my home. There is also a fine library, three schools, and a shop that sells nothing but Hot Dogs. Church bells toll the time each hour and people greet each other each morning as we all walk in the coolness of the Eos's blessing. There are playgrounds and atheletic fields. There is no McDonalds or Walmart or barroom.
So, the things that may be missing from my life go unnoticed. They are hidden from view by the plethora of good things.
I would like to be closer to my children but they themselves are spread so far apart that it would not be possible to be close to all of them. I did so enjoy watching them grow from children to very admirable young women. It would be a joy to watch them travel through maturity with the intense niceness that they each have. I claim no credit for the amazing human beings that they have become. That all came from their Mother who taught them the joys of learning and music and art and compassion. She taught me the same and I will never forget being so overwhelmed by Les Miserables, which I would have never seen on my own. The same goes for Jesus Christ, Superstar. That love of human achievement was passed on to her children, one of whom took me to a performance of Handel's Messiah with a full orchestra.
Once again, there is no place that I would rather be unless it was standing at the sausage and peppers stand on Landsdowne Street. It was nice to see Manny again.