“Massachusetts,” my 4-year-old said, articulating every syllable as we crossed the state line. The word rolled off his tongue with familiarity, because the state, indeed, has been part of him for as long as he has been alive. Since the pandemic, we have been back to my hometown of Newburyport, Mass., only twice: once when case numbers plummeted last fall and again this July, just as I’ve done for every July of my son’s life, for every July of his younger brother’s life. My sons know the landscape the way that most of us know the lineage of our parents. At some point, our stories became one.

Source: Washington Post August 26, 2021 18:00 UTC