New Hampshire was all I thought it would be. And less. And more.
Before we took off, I had visions of walking craggy beaches, of rescuing starfish flung into tidepools. But this vision folded into an alternate reality... we sat to gaze at blurry stars, projected in a planetarium. (I did manage to catch a quick, beach-like nap, though! Shhhhh... don't tell my daughters.)
We also hiked through hushed woodlands, to where we could cling to a cliff and gaze down at a wide creek. The water looked like tea that had been steeped overlong. At another point, we waded through a sea of ferns. I have never seen so many ferns, like dancers in green lace, drifting arm in arm across a forest floor.
I'm happy to report, however, that we didn't go to Santa Land. Not to worry. We saw Santa at a KFC in Concord. He was a little thin from summer's heat, clad in jeans and a green tee shirt. His wizened face sported a foot and a half long beard, which had clearly missed the last salon bleaching appointment. He was eating mashed potatoes.
Over the few days, I held hands with my kids, kissed the tops of their heads, looked them full in the eyes— all this, despite that my visions were revised.
What visions are bowing before you... today, this week, this year... trying to bend into an alternate reality? Asking you to trust the possibilities of a different path?
Photo by Gail Nadeau.