Last week we strolled around the beautiful and historic seaport town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
We took photo after photo. Just like any other tourist in town for the day.
And Portsmouth’s wearing her prettiest party dress this summer. Pots of flowers splash color in almost every store front, history lives again on every street corner, and the tugboats pose for pictures on the Piscataqua River.
We shared sidewalks with strangers I’m certain were mostly tourists making memories, happy to be out and about following their feet on such a beautiful day.
And the only difference between me and them is they live who-knows-where, and I’m from 20 minutes down the road and around the corner.
So why don’t I visit more often?
Why don’t I live like a tourist?
I wrote here about how I seem to get a little stuck … walking well-worn paths to familiar and regular life destinations.
And that’s a shame — because there’s boats in the harbor, and lobster traps piled on the dock, and life really can be a walk in the park — if I make the time.
So, if you’re looking for me some Monday after work, or next Thursday, or a week from tomorrow … I may just be out.
Living like a tourist.