At Emily Dickinson's House

Emily Dickinson House and Museum
Last fall Sam and I drove to Western Mass to visit Emily Dickinson's house. I'm slightly (okay, really) obsessed with her. We stayed in a Bed and Breakfast in Petersham, drove to Amherst, paid for the full tour (an hour and a half of Emily magic!) and I basically cried through the entire thing. My reaction sort of surprised me. I held it together okay, but if I would have been alone, I would have really been wailing.

I think a lot about that day with Sam. I was pregnant then, which is probably why it's stuck with me. It seemed like the only time we were out and about with that news, wholely happy and clear about it. Even then there were some signs we would lose the pregnancy, but it felt, to me, like we were both clinging to it, grateful to even be where we were as briefly as we would be there. 

And I don't know how to explain my tears other than that. I was emotional anyway, and somehow those stories of Emily (Emily and her enormous dog, Emily baking bread every morning, Emily's signature white dress, Emily puttering in her very own greenhouse), spoke to me. To me she is such a personality: a quiet personality, perhaps, but one that filled up that house she lived in, and echoes down through her intricate poems.
I feel like I look so happy in the series of pictures we took here.
Sam is celebrating poetry, obviously.
I love this picture.


belann said…
Glad you recorded it. Happy memories need to be savored and recorded.
ginger said…
I love that picture too!
kathy w. said…
You do, indeed, look happy, in these pictures. Here's to many more reasons to look and feel that way.
Spencer G said…
Deja, loved this, and can I say that your posts always make me much happier.
Amara said…
I can put it on my list of places to visit someday along with the Brontes' home.

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