Collegetown bagels

In my home town I have a new haunt. It’s the strangest of places, save of course that it isn’t. Collegetown bagels in East Hill Plaza has become my quiet space. I stare out at the parking lot and write. It is early June, and everything is beautiful and green. In the early mornings, or really just the mornings, I ease the rental car up the hill from my folks house and have coffee while they sleep. Sleep isn’t easy for anyone any more, and it’s good to let those doing so continue. From this branch of Collegetown bagels I talk to the family in Hong Kong. They know the location, from our visit in January. Clara was ill and required a lot of cranberry juice from the hotel lobby in the same strip mall. I was happy to have bagels near at hand, and to see the kind of people that come through this plaza on an edge of Ithaca. In June it’s still a good group. Fewer students, of course. Fewer boots, too. At least fewer snow boots. Mostly my home town feels like the same odd blend of people it…