Letter From the Coast: Winter Light

In winter the seaside town empties out. The ice cream stands board their windows, the rental cottages go dark, and the people who remain are the ones who actually live here: fishermen, a few retirees, the woman who runs the hardware store and knows what everyone is building.

The light changes too. It comes in low and sideways off the water, silvering everything, making even the parking lot beautiful for twenty minutes at four in the afternoon. The summer visitors never see it. That is, I think, the town's private reward for staying.