Our lovely, rainy honeymoon. While part of me regretted not being able to explore the island more, most of me enjoyed being hidden away with you in the old beach house, watching rain run down the round window in the bedroom, overlooking the balcony.


Now, there are ghosts at ever turn, and the rain isn't at all magical. It's a time machine returning me to the most painful of memories.

Any love I had for Martha's Vineyard dissipated with this trip. Where I once browsed shops, wondering if you would like this



or hate this




In the end, my mind catches up with the present, and it reminds me none too gently that it no longer matters what you like or don't like.