“Strong Russian stock,” my Aunt Candy used to say.
And when we're together, just watch out! The excess energy bubbles over. The volume gets louder and louder. We toss ideas back and forth faster than 20 Ping-Pong balls! You can't get a word in edgewise.
It's quiet, unimposing. Sandwiched along I-95 between Pennsylvania and Maryland, it is truly a good thing in a small package. Minus the overdrive.
Across the water, the micro-metropolis of Wilmington shows off its business center. You can count the tall buildings on one hand.
Even the river is narrow. A good swimmer could dive in and emerge on the opposite bank without really trying.
But small is good here. It leaves space for grass, trees, and sculpture. For meandering and relaxing.
Then we hear the ringing of delicate bells. We watch as a drawbridge rises three times to let water taxis pass underneath. Like the Riverfront, the small boats are nearly empty. We wonder where they’re going.
The water’s peaceful. The path is smooth. And best of all, I can make it from one end to the other!
But I’m learning to take life in small doses. To pace myself.