We spent Valentine’s weekend in Mystic, Connecticut during what can only be described as Polar Vortex Supremo. I was not prepared for that level of cold, but on the upside I got to wear my coral pink scarf pretty much every second of every day. I also considered sleeping in it, but nixed the idea because strangling to death in my sleep would have put quite the damper on V-day.
But it was lovely. So lovely. Getting out of a giant city is always exciting, but getting away to a little quaint town on the water is even more exciting. The streets are dotted with old houses named after sea captains. Like this one.
When Jane was little I used to read her my favorite book. She loved it, and called it “Miss Grumpius.”
This house and this town were straight out of that story book. Straight out of sea captain legends, sea shell shops, boats, houses painted white with creaking wood floors, and yes, there is actually a Mystic Pizza.
I loved every second of Valentine’s Day with my two people.
And then we drove home while it snowed. The closer we got to New York the stronger my migraine grew, pounding in my right ear like it always does when the weather shifts, the harder the white powder covered the road, the bigger and grayer the city seemed with it’s plumes of smoke and glass windows staring back at me. But even on these snowy, cold days, I know there are oceans and mountains and magical little towns only a short drive away. Memories of red hearts and chocolate and weekends surrounded by sea captain houses make all the difference.
Can it be spring now please? The flowers at the corner store are calling my name.