We swung back north on the train to Providence and, then, by car to Cape Cod...a kind of separate state of geography and mind. A canal linking the bay with the Atlantic cuts the Cape off from the mainland...the canal is crossed by three bridges, the most spectacular of which is for trains (the mid-section lowers to the land-based tracks when needed).
I was in a lobster market in one of the small towns along the canal. The owner was talking to a friend, one of the customers who lined up to get fresh seafood, and asked, "So where're you going for Thanksgiving."
"We'll be home." And later added, "We're going to Falmouth" (a small adjoining town).
"I thought you said you were going to be home."
"Well, I'm not leaving the Cape." That is, not going to cross the canal.
The lobster mart was located one of the Cape's "working" harbors, filled not with sailboats and yachts, but with fishing boats with nets, pulleys, and gear for bringing "home" food from the sea. The towns along the canal are working towns with year-round residents, not like the beach houses which seemed at this time of year to be empty of their owners and renters.
A quiet time for celebrations of family ties.
