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I would move the family to my true home back in the NJ Pine Barrens. We would have a a small log cabin on a remote dirt road and I would work as a forest ranger in Belleplain State Forest. We would have enough land to grow some of our food and few unwelcome intrusions into our life.
During the day, I’d be the steward of an amazing place that holds the vast majority of my few good childhood memories and at night, relax in the light and warmth of a campfire, then sleep with only the sounds of crickets and the odd whippoorwill. I would hike, explore abandoned towns, fish, shoot my bow, make my arrows and maybe even a bow one day, canoe, and camp.
When I think about this, usually it’s not such a clear plan. It comes to me a flashes of feelings, images, sounds and scents. Contentment, the smell of a bed of pine needles after a rain, the white sand tainted grey with the remnants of old forest fires, the snap of picking a fresh blueberry or the taste of a teaberry leaf.
I guess my best life is one out of the main world and inside my own, smaller one.