On the ferry from Boston to P-Town I saw the deep waters of Cape Cod Bay. I saw the plume of foamy water spewing from the blowhole of a whale just under the surface. Men with perfect hair and brightly colored skinny jeans. Older couples, gay and straight, holding hands. Pampered pooches. Shiny, sparkly baubles and tacky souvenirs with brash quotes. Tattoos and flip flopped hippies and wild haired beach boys. And flowers of every color and shape and scent dotting lawns both unkempt and well maintained. Women in heels and little barefoot babies. Steaming red lobsters and dripping ice cream cones.

So much to take in. My day was a beautiful assault of the senses. My mind whirred and ran at lightening speed. And moments taking in a particular photo or painting stopped me in my tracks and the moment held still. So many moments in this day. My heart swelled to bursting. My stomach felt about the same by the end of the day.

I love food, and I enjoyed every minute of every morsel making its way past my lips from fish tacos to Portuguese pastries, up until the ferry ride back to Boston. Then, not so much. With a weak smile and a deep breath, I curled onto the bench and relived the day’s moments.

I made new memories. Relived old. Wondered about making more. By golly, this was just the first full day of my trip.