Our whole routine is carried over, almost as though we had not left. Almost as though we were home.
It's nice to go home. Which in this case is East Tennessee. I'm actually a fifth generation Floridian, and there is something comforting about being there. The stars seem properly aligned, and the smells of citrus and salt awaken a primal sense of place. Shrimp fresh off the boat for Christmas dinner, a slice of… Continue reading Home again, home again