We arrived during rush hour, as a steady stream of cars headed north on Route 119. Time for only a quick walk before dinner. There’s a pizza place across the street. Could it be the same one we patronized years ago? We didn’t enter to find out.

Up the hill from the inn is the First Parish Church, scene of our friend Kip’s funeral. Standing room only for that kind and friendly soul. I miss him still.

We searched for the post office, and found it … now an antiques shop. But the large white houses remain, and Hollis Street still angles off to the east.

It seems like a lifetime since we lived here. And in so many ways it has been.