Into the Little Town

I drive on snowy roads from State College for twelve miles until I meander into the little town of Bellefonte to meet my friend for lunch at a darling restaurant called Blonde Bistro. Bellefonte, if you don’t know, will invite you to feel painted into a Christmas calendar or written into Charles Dickens or built into Victorian architecture. With the fresh snow, Bellefonte’s charm fills me with new joy.

In the smallness, I remember how vast the world is and all I have not yet experienced. Just twelve miles away, a snow globe village sits with new friends waiting. Yesterday, I didn’t know what I know now:

She’s there among the Victorian houses, where sleigh bells ring at night–a friend in a tiny, snowy town. And here, in this little place, I think of walking down the little streets with my husband one night when we think our own town feels too small. We’ll drive over here and see what this place might offer.

I drive away back to my own place. I leave the little town, and I’m larger.

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