Stories for Humans

I’d go to Nova Scotia, Canada. For two weeks, in September or July. I’d explore beaches, pottery shops, quaint bookstores. Drink coffee out of handmade mugs painted blue. I would sit on the dock and watch the tall sailboats grow larger and smaller, and travel to lighthouses and red sandy strands. I would take an old book I’ve always loved by Maeve Binchy or Rosamund Pilcher and tuck it under my arm but probably never read it. I would look for a painting to buy, and visit the Bluenose of course. I would smile as my husband sees it all for the first time, and brave a lobster restaurant by the sea just to hear him exclaim how tasty it is. And I would walk a winding road and say hello to the beautiful people, the sandpipers, and the sea glass hiding in the rocks. And then I would reluctantly but happily fly home again.