As I was getting into my car and leaving the farmer’s market this morning, Maria pointed out this beautiful and iconic tableau right across the grass.

Two beautiful and remarkable women, a mother and daughter – their names were Melissa and her two-year-old daughter Alice – were having lunch together under a beautiful old tree.

I could see the mother preparing to go.

I got out of the car and ran across the grass as they began to get up. This is the country, so I shouted, “Hey, sit down, please; I want to take your picture.” I couldn’t do that in New York City; I’d get arrested.

No one up here ever says no if I ask politely. There is something special about not having to live in fear of your neighbors.

We still trust each other here.

It was beautiful to see Melissa and her daughter building sweet memories for the future. I sometimes forget that Melissa was in one of my writing classes six or seven years ago. I remember her well for being friendly, bright, and honest.

She now works from home for the town food Co-op. It was sweet to see them together at their private and cozy lunch.

My town is not paradise, but it is my town, and I would not wish to live anywhere else. I love living in a place like this, where there are a thousand safe and beautiful places for a mother or father to sit down and have lunch with their kid.

I don’t remember being able to do this easily with my daughter.