In these few days in Vermont:
I swam in a lake for the very first time. Before breakfast. While unidentified wild birds were diving around. Yep, I can hardly believe it myself.
I attended an American wedding –that wasn’t my own– for the first time. And I cried at an American wedding — that wasn’t my own. I almost expected the letters “the end” to fall from the sky when Grandpa Fred said “I pronounce you man and wife” but apparently this doesn’t happen in real life American events. Oh, tv can be so misleading.
I rocked a baby to sleep for the first time. You don’t think it’s a big deal until you make the wailing stop with your own bare hands. Never felt so competent before.
So, doing all these things for the fist time (not to mention hiking, exploring a lakeside and dancing to Jonny Cash songs) I reached the undeniable conclusion that Vermont is turning me into a monster with every visit. And I like it.