Bucolic Burlington

The bus careened onto a slanted uneven street and into New York City. I saw the skyline emerge from the silhouette of crossing pedestrians. The flurry of traffic sprawled before us like a carpet. Finally, I thought, I had arrived. After a 9-hour bus ride that took me from Burlington to Manchester to Albany and now finally…finally, New York City. I had spent the week away on a surgical boot camp in Burlington where I practiced and refined my surgical and procedural technique. We used mini cocktail sausages to practice circumcision and Kielbasa sausages to practice colposcopy and cervical cone biopsies. At one point, the clinic room smelled like a butcher shop. We spent early-morning sessions in the OR reviewing how to position patients for robotic laparoscopy, and practiced suturing and knot tying on pigs’ feet.

My daydreams take me to far away places, to homes I had had in the past, to homes I have yet to have in the future.

Outside of clinic, in the few hours I had before needing to get to be early for our early sessions and cases in the OR, I enjoyed downtown Burlington. Nestled in the heart of Burlington is my favorite organic food store – City Market River Coop – which I frequented often to buy organic juices and curry cashews. I walked down Church Street and sauntered along the cobblestoned steps. My feet relished once again in mapping the neat contours of this small contained city.

I knew that I could will myself to be happy here, to find my quiet contentment among the sugar maple trees and black bears. There is a here life that would be beautiful.

I imagined my life here – moving back to Vermont, raising a family, building a home, creating a life here – and…yes, I could see it. My musings took me to Saturday mornings where I would wake up to the quiet majesty of the Adirondacks perched beyond my windowsill. I would corral my children and dogs out the door and we would happily and with sleep stars still in our eyes walk to an early morning breakfast at Penny Cluse where my talkative children would fight over who got to eat the last biscuit. I knew that I could will myself to be happy here, to find my quiet contentment among the sugar maple trees and black bears. There is a here life that would be beautiful.

My daydreams take me to faraway places, to homes I had had in the past, to homes I have yet to have in the future. I wonder how my idea of home can and will expand over this next year, how home now is still an idea unfurling in the thin wisps of thought in my brain, yet I am aching with excitement over what the future will bring.




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