I did my run through Lighthouse Park this morning for what may not be the absolute last time - I've got sneaky plans to park in the neighborhood on the weekends until it gets super cold - but certainly the last time as a full resident of the Cove. Our moving day is Friday, our house is a warren of color-coded boxes, and still, somehow, it doesn't feel quite real.
This morning, the wind was coming in strongly off the water, and the beach was almost deserted, like it has been for the last couple of weeks. Rounding the corner of the pavilion, seeing the upthrust form of the white lighthouse against the blue sky, I thought the same thing I've thought every time I make that turn, since I begrudgingly began running six or so months ago: "What a gift."
Thank you, Morris Cove. Thank you, Concord Street.
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