EDITOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader, “That’s the thing about home—you take it for granted until you move away.” My mom has said this more times than I can count throughout my life. When I was little, we moved from Rhode Island to North Carolina, leaving behind our extended family, friends, and the only life all of us knew. At the time, I was too young to understand what she was talking about and what she would miss: long summer days at the beach, clam cakes and chowder, the smell of fallen autumn leaves, Sunday family dinner, and New England. It wasn’t until I was well into my adulthood that I realized how much I also missed “home.” I pined for the colonial architecture, the ocean, my family, and the rooted history and traditions of the…