Reflections on Place

At work, we're in the process of writing an appeal about renovations to our facility. The letter opens by mentioning that the spaces in which we spend our time can be as integral to our memories as the experiences we have in them. After spending the weekend on Martha's Vineyard, I can't help thinking about the importance of place.

Growing up, if anyone asked if I had a special place, my rapid response was always "the dance studio."  It could've been any dance studio. They all had enormous meaning for me then. I felt so invested in being there, spending hours dancing, sweating, perfecting, and getting lost in a passion for doing something I have yet to rediscover.

Special places have shifted for me over time, but the constant remains the feeling when you enter them. There's a cultivated thoughtfulness in the way meaningful places are created and kept, how memories are curated and how tangible items can capture the essence of a place and all that has happened there.

Even though it is new, I feel that way about Round Pond. Daily trivials wash away when you set foot in the house, see the lake, and feel the peacefulness of the woods. Even after not living there for years, I get that same sense of relaxed comfort when I travel to my parents' house. Whether or not it was intentional, they made a place that not only reflects them in every flower bed, tree and bird feeder but also exudes a spirit of natural ease, a place where you can just be you and nothing else matters.

More than any of the really difficult things I felt over the weekend, the hardest part was unassembling a place that had for so many years been thoughtfully crafted. Every item had purpose; it was clear every thing represented a story or a moment or a feeling or a memory. And not just within the stuff. I am capable of rationalizing that stuff is just stuff, but the walls have that feeling and the woods have that feeling and every view out of every window has that feeling. I really believe that it takes a long, long time to build that feeling in a place and it is sad, so incredibly sad, to pack that feeling into boxes and turn it over to someone else.