knowing a place

When I was young, I thought I would see the world. I thought I would fill my passport with stamps and collect stories of adventure.

But that wasn't to be my story. 

I ended up back in my small town immediately after college graduation, and here I've stayed.

The stamps in the passport are few and the adventures are of a different variety. But what I've come to discover is that there is a beauty in learning a place well. Learning your home. Knowing it in and out.

The small stretch of beach a couple of hundred yards from my door has become my study. I have learned how the light works in each season. I watch the way the cliffs fall. I pay attention to what blooms and who lives there. I observe the tide and  notice the changes in the creek. 

I don't know many places. But this place, I know well. And the more I know it, the more I know there is to learn.

And now I get to bring new people there. I get to watch as they search for the teeth of ancient sharks. As they clammer over fallen logs and as they slip and slide on the wet clay . And sometimes, I know they see the murky magic in this place too.