It had been 28 years since I was back in the town where I spent many winter weekends and holidays in my youth. I spent the last week orienting to my sense of place and my sense of purpose while weaving in my family history and stories.

The quaint Vermont town of Manchester captured my heart at an early age. My grandparents had a home in Manchester that they generously shared with our family over the years. I have many special memories from all those dinners and quality time with friends and extended family. After I learned how to ski there, I taught skiing at the local ski area. Back then, all day tickets were $7 and for $10 you could get a ticket, hamburger, hot chocolate and fries!

I loved the pace of country life and the connection to the natural world that I found all around me there. My father took me out in a row boat to try our hand at fishing on the pond behind the house, and my mother would be the one to get us all out on full moon nights for midnight snowshoe hikes. I swam in the quarry. I got married in town. I never really realized how much of my formative years were built on this foundation of love for the outdoors.

After my Uncle’s memorial service and the primary reason for returning to the area, I visited the grave site of my grandparents. So much history and emotions. My visit back and its many synchronistic moments gave me much to reflect on in the coming winter days.