At home in Middlefield

I have lived in a number of beautiful places. I grew up in Rye, New York, but spent chunks of my life in The Bronx, Long Beach, CA, Guadalajara (Mexico), Saba (Netherland Antilles), Branford, Ct and Glastonbury, CT. When I close my eyes and dream of the places I once dwelled, each stays with me for different reasons. I’ll never forget the smell of fresh semolina bread, rising and drifting along Arthur Avenue into the window of my 12th story Fordham University dorm room.  Soon after, independence was mine in Long Beach along the beautiful shores of the Pacific Ocean. The adventures were boundless within the market towns of Mexico. In Saba, red roofed cottages idyllically placed against the aqua blue ocean backdrop, couldn’t have been any more beautiful. Early motherhood would blur my memory of my first Connecticut homes, but not without noticing the seasonal beauty that New England provides. Middlefield, would never have been on my radar as place to settle down. A quick blink would bring us through town and I distinctly remember looking at my husband and saying, “Is this seriously it?” Our old home seemed to somehow choose us and we became Middlefield residents in a leap of faith.  After 7 years, I have no itch to move on. We may lack in boutique stores, but I worry not as there is much distinction to be found here. Like every other place I have lived, a picture swirls in my mind. Lyman Orchards, just above our home will forever be etched in my thoughts as the place that makes Middlefield feel like home. As the seasons happen, it beckons new photographs to tell its story. Like good comfort food, it keeps pleasing and satisfies my edacious appetite for finding the day’s ordinary miracle.