I’m putting together a new book full of my observations about Place — both in Vermont and Minnesota. Here is a very short excerpt I read last Sunday at the Derby Line First Universalist Parish:
I go to register my car and get my Vermont driver’s license at the DMV in Newport, Vermont. The clerk gets to a point in the process where I have to swear that I am a resident now of Vermont, and the ceremony catches me by surprise. I burst into tears, a sort of churning emotional joy. I let my guard down and tell her how we’ve worked and dreamed about this for years. She tells me her story of moving to Vermont. She tells me that if I can get past a certain period, everything will start to flow. We walk out to the car, still talking, so she can verify the VIN of my vehicle. Memphremagog glistens, its surface moving.