Going Home

I have a friend who lives in a town adjacent to New Bedford who cannot understand my allegiance to my former home city. In the past, I have struggled to explain to her why I feel as I do. As reasons to like and appreciate New Bedford I point to its rich history, its great restaurants, to its interesting neighborhoods, and to the people I know who are committed to rescuing New Bedford from the fate suffered by so many other former mill towns. What I should have told her is that I the reason I feel about New Bedford the way I do is because it feels like home.

Two days ago I made a special trip to New Bedford to vote in Tuesday's special election. Yes...I am something of a procrastinator and yes...I should have changed my registration a year ago when I moved to Abington. However...Abington...despite my best efforts...is where I live...its not home.

As I turned up Pearl Street, driving along Klasky Common I did not experience so much nostalgia for a certain time in my life but rather something more useful and more tangible. I felt safe and at rest. There is no other way to put it...I felt at home. Why or how this happened is a story for another day....this important thing is that it did happen.

Home does not need to be a place...I no longer reside in New Bedford...it can be a feeling that a certain place evokes. Sitting by the fire in a coffee shop in the historic district I realized that feeling at home is something I can carry with me wherever I go...or at least try to. This may be one more gift New Bedford has given me.