Inspired in Ohio

I was dreading this trip. 

We lived here for two years before we moved back home to New Hampshire. I loved it, but I was more homesick than I’d realized. So homesick that my heart hurt more and more the closer we got to Logan Airport.

But I did it. 

And I’m glad I did.

And don’t try to fix my grammar. Okay, fine, fix it if you need to. I can respect that. I’d do it to you if I were in my “normal” frame of mind. 

But I’m not. 

I’m inspired. 

I’m awestruck.

I’m happy. 

Let’s start with the young woman at the hotel desk. We remembered each other from my last visit, where the first hotel I stayed in was so bad that we relocated to this one. I tell her she rescued me. Perhaps, it was in more ways than one.

T has brought a young, intelligent perspective to things that I, at the ripe old age of 63, take for granted. Things I should be aware of, but being in my post-covid bubble, tucked aside as not part of my world. 

But it is. As it should be. 

And if you’re thinking I should capitalize “covid” you’re reading the wrong blog. I refuse. 

Where was I? Ah yes. T. 

I’m not sharing her name for privacy purposes, but if she were to decide to subscribe to my blog, she would know I’m talking about her. She is bright, charming, and quite capable of grabbing life by the horns and making it go wherever she wants it to go. 

We bonded over books, shared values, and the unspoken belief that women should always support one another, helping them rise to their true selves. (And then, of course, raise others so the tradition continues.)

Our age difference never matters.

Our cultural differences were respected. 

So, I’ll leave Ohio reminded that the love of books is universal, and that a carful of black men will always be pulled over. 

I know, I know, I usually keep this blog light and fluffy. But this is important to remember. 

After all, as we age, there are things we don’t see as often, and it’s not just because of our ever-changing optical prescriptions!