Fairhaven

Sunday was grey cloudy and gloomy.  Not a typical day that inspires an adventure, but my roommate and I were not deterred by the weather.  We jumped in the car after church, passports in hand and drove an hour south.   Our destination we knew was quaint but we discovered that it seemed to be lost in time.   It appeared on the surface that little had changed since the first brick was laid.   

Though rain threatened to dampen our afternoon adventure we bravely weaved in and out of stores housed in historical buildings.  We discovered two treasures; a bookstore that was bursting at the seams with literature of all sorts in which we scoured the shelves for hidden gems.  Either the nostalgia of the shop or the feeling of being sandwiched between bookshelves that overflowed onto the floor made me feel as though I were treasure hunting in a sea of literature.   My soul was happy.   We ventured further down the aged street and came to an antique store, with everything from a "trench checker board" to old photographs of nameless faces.  Stored in a way that seemed to lure you in and make you wish for simpler times, the little antique store overflowed much like the bookstore with treasures.   

Our excursion to that little sea port town reminded me that things should and can last.  That there was a different ethic in regard to craftsmanship in days gone by.  These days it seems we expect things to brake, or fall apart. We anticipate what we have been taught through the things that surround us. Maybe that's why I love the hunt of old things, maybe that's why history appeals to be so, because it really does become a treasure hunt; searching for that one of a kind something that links me to history.