Ithaca

One autumn evening, we sat buried beneath statistics homework and to-do lists and made quick plans for a weekend away -- back to Ithaca, a belated anniversary celebration.

We drove up on Friday afternoon, dropped our bags and walked to Viva.  Over tacos and margaritas, I thought about how everything felt the same -- as though the town stood still for us in our time away.  We walked past a  holiday race with cups of coffee in the morning, went to feel the mist of the falls on our faces, shared a cider and maple cotton candy at the farmer's market.  We tasted wine, took late afternoon naps, waited in line for the earliest seating at Just a Taste.  After tapas, we walked in the rain for drinks.  We read notes written on scraps of paper and left behind one of our own, rolled up in the crevices of the brick wall.

I realized on our drive home how much of a homebody I am, that even when traveling, my favorite thing to do is to revisit the places I feel most at home.