If you wanted to, you could drive up for the weekend and we could view New England from the other side of eighteen. You could aim your car through the postcard perfection of your backwoods Vermont, toward the place we used to call home that no longer knows us by name. I can see you skipping over state lines like a giant game of hopscotch, a yellow chalk star in one corner of Massachusetts marked out with my name. If you wanted to, I could teach you how to dream again and you could remind me to keep believing in magic. The truth is, you are my home - you will always live inside my heart, no matter how far away we get from the fault lines of our childhood. http://ficlets.com/feed/story/30314