The first time I truly lived somewhere
other than home
was in Burlington, Massachusetts.
The day before I headed out,
I have no problems admitting
I cried.
But it was there,
really,
I truly began to appreciate
getting to discover
what there was to find
in new environs.
I still like to believe
I found a lot of what was available
around me,
not just that spot
where the Founding Fathers hid,
or the house owned by that loyalist,
or the reservoir,
not even the remnant of Victoria Station
(which I ridiculously sing about to this day)
...All of it, basically.
I made that place home.
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