There's a town just a couple hours to the North of us, right up against the lake in Wisconsin. Port Washington is a cozy little town, if a bit prone to touristy stuff (fancy shops and such) since it's somewhat popular with the summer folks. Nice harbor, lots of fishing boats.
The fam and I stopped there a while back; a relative was getting married in the are and we had some time to kill before the reception. We drove down into the area right by the harbor, got out, walked around. The road closest to the lake has a line of shops, ending in a coffee shop (oh joy, oh rapture unbounded!).
We went in; it was a bit chilly due to being RIGHT by the lake, so I got a coffee. And a muffin. I mean, they were there...
Then, back out into the neat little park next door. It's small, no playground (at least, not yet), just a few statues and a beautiful pavilion. Perfect for walking.
If you keep walking, you get to a couple of those viewing telescopes you have to put money into. Then, next to that, you can either go out on the docks or on to the rocks that go for a ways out into the lake. We did both.
Maybe it was a perfect storm of locale, upkeep, being in a pretty good mood that day...but it's one of my happiest memories. One of my happiest places. We've been back a few times since, and while perhaps not quite as memorable as the first time, there has really been very little diminishment of that place in my eyes.
I mean; look at this pic. Just look at it!!!
I'd like to live there, I thought. Or someplace like it. At the time, I was contributing to another blog, and wrote a long-winded post rhapsodizing about how when I grow to retirement years (fingers crossed), that's how I'd like to live.
A small harbor town. I'd walk or bike to get coffee every morning. The regulars would know me; the occasional visitor might recognize my name as "that well-known author". I'd head out on the pier, a bit chilly but cozied by said coffee and my hand-knitted sensible sweater, of which I shall have quite a few. I'd lean on the rail, staring out at the ocean, letting the thoughts go where they may. Then, I'd head back to my home, a bit older and not in the best shape but it's well-loved, sit at my typewriter, and get to work.
Typewriter?? I mean, I'm old-fashioned, but those things can get super annoying to work with, what with the keys sticking and changing ribbon and... I have no idea where that came from.
Or had. My husband got a bit miffed, wondering exactly where he was in this scenario. Fair question; I had no idea. Just off somewhere, I supposed. But the true reason why didn't strike me until some time later, when I was watching TV. Then I realized:
I want to be Jessica Fletcher.
I mean, who doesn't?
(Except the being a widow part. Sorry about that, hun! You stick around as long as you want, that's fine by me!).
Writer, dancer, actress, mother, me.