This is a shot I took last month of the Meeting House, In my Hometown of Greenfield New Hampshire. Its an incredible old building that has stood for many decades. It has been featured in calendars all over the country. In Iowa I found a calendar with a picture of the old meeting house. These old buildings are a important part of our past, and I was fortunate to grow up so close to one.
It is a simple building with big drafty windows and creaky floors. The white paint clings to the clapboards, and the black shingles add just enough contrast. When you enter the doors you can almost feel the weight of the history. The old meetinghouses make me reminiscent of an easier time. That is one of the major reasons, I love small towns, They remind you to slow down. The past and the presence live in harmony.
I grew up in the shadow of the building, and many of the major moments of my life happened in its presence. I have sat under the oak trees, and ran across the driveway barefoot. As a child we would come out here to read stories under the trees. I planned my life out sitting on the old fire escape that looks over the graveyard. I stood at its podium and spoke at my mothers funeral. I voted in my first election, and spoke at my first town meeting. Our first school dance was here too. I have met people who have become lifelong friends here. Friendships have been broken here too. And while I am thankful for the memories, I know that these people belong within my past. This place is woven into the fabric of who I am, and I do not know what I would be without it.
Life seems to be constantly changing and evolving. This place gives me a anchor to hold on to.