We've just returned from Brewster, NY. Situated about an hour outside of Manhattan, this quaint and thriving town is most notable for my dear friend and her family who live there. Admittedly, the drive to this little oasis tests my husband's nerves. Our GPS routed us through Manhattan. What? What!? The lower level of the George Washington Bridge is not a destination I hope to revisit as we snaked our way through this belly of a steel dragon.
But, the trek is definitely worth it as my girlfriend roles out the red carpet of hospitality. Her husband cooks feasts of lobsters and meats seasoned in their secret sauces. We plop pool side and relish those rare and relaxing moments in a summer that's fading fast.
What I love about our annual visit (besides the cuisine, of course) is the conversation. I talk and talk and talk some more with this friend of mine of almost 20 years. We switch topics with reckless abandon as the mothers of toddlers, stopping mid-sentence to shout cautions or give snack instructions. We can finish a conversation an hour after it started covering threads of four other stories in between. We are convinced this is a skill only a mother can possess or appreciate and laugh at the folly of it all.
My charming friend sparkles and I can not imagine this gray world without her in it. To pause in the busyness of our crazy lives and carve time out to connect. A smiling face before my own, in person, in laughter, in long, long friendship. My beauty of Brewster.
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