One of the best things about living in small-town Connecticut is its abundance of forests.
I remembered going through this forest with a high school boyfriend, and crossing over a little bank.
As if that weren’t enough, I also remembered that there was an old beer bottle lying beside it. I was going to pick up then, 3 years ago, but we didn’t come back that same way. Lost? Oh, never 😉
second minute, I thought I had found it.
But I trusted my instinct, which remembered that I didn’t have to scale an odd stick to get across this.
Time does change a place, but at least the memories remain.