Milford

Where else can you walk out to a little island in the ocean when it's low tide? Where houses look like ice cream cone palettes of pretty colors? Where surprising wildlife like foxes, turkeys, and even bears visit? Milford, CT where I grew up, an idyllic coastal town with warm summers and cold winters. I remember running 6 miles in 19 degrees, skipping over snow on the sandy beach, eyes watering in the wind, breathing in my youth, exhaling my worries. Milford feels safe, life will be ok here. There is comfort in little things like the small ice cream shop by the marina, looking for seashells on the rocky shore during low tide, watching the ocean waves rise up to the steps of the road during high tide. Here is where I could go to carnivals and ride all the fun local rides (except ones that made you vomit), eat terrible carnival food, and walk around feeling satisfied and hopeful. Here is where the annual Oyster festival brings crowds of thousands downtown with live music and good food, the best pizza, and local artists selling goods. Local landmarks like a giant willow tree leaning over the river by a dam. The old movie theater with a balcony, adorned with soft velvet curtained interiors, made you feel fancy and vintage. But they tore that down to make a parking lot, and you lost a little bit of your youth. The local library where kids liked to hang out and some of my grandpa's paintings would hang at times. The parades I marched in as part of my high school's color guard, with my uncle as St. Patrick, the streets lined with merry buzzed townsfolk. The beach was always my favorite of course, the smell of the salt water, the beauty of each sunset, the sounds of gentle waves because we rarely had any due to Long Island blocking the big ones. The one time I kayaked out in the ocean with my sister, becoming sea sick on the way back in as the waves carried us. The time I arrived to my middle school dance on a boat to the Milford Yacht Club, thinking that was the height of sophistication and coolness. I had my first job here, learned how to drive, and navigated the ups and downs of adolescence and early adulthood, thinking it was lame because “nothing happens here.” But now I crave to return.

One of the best things about Milford is where it is and what it is close to. When I was a little older, I took the train to NYC, one of my favorite places on Earth, loving that I lived so near, that I could take a train there and come back the same day. Taking the same train all the way down to Washington DC where I went to school. On July 4th, heading to the next town over for fireworks on the beach. For Christmas seeing the big tree lit up on the green, a beautiful expanse of grass and trees, gorgeous all times of the year. The time I slipped and fell all the way down my hilly driveway because of ice, laughing at myself. Living close to all the people I knew at one time, my world was relatively small. Now that I have been all over, I long for that small world again.

It is a simple, artsy place, steadily growing but it always feels the same. The promise of a good life is here. Yes I love my hometown, wish I could move back, maybe someday I will. If I do, I will certainly cherish every moment.