Happy Place.

I can't recall when I first heard the phrase "go to your happy place." I think it was in fourth grade when I went on the Tilt-A-Whirl with Abbey and Michelle. I had no idea swirling movement wouldn't be a good idea. After the first spin, I was about to spew my guts. I remember hearing them tell me to think happy thoughts or find my happy place.

Years later, I did.

Buffalo, ND is my happy place. I went there first when I was dating Greg. We went to the farm where his grandparents had lived for many years. I could sense the history and love and legacy in that home. And I secretly wanted to be a part of it. Good thing we got married!

And a few years later the grandparents built a house in town. No matter. The history and love and legacy moved with Harold and Marian. And even though we often call the house in town "The Farm," it still works.

There's a feeling when you are there. It's peaceful. Even if there are a ton of folks around, it still feels peaceful. And relaxed, comfortable. Like a good pair of jeans that fit. You want to spend time at the table, eating glorified deliciousness or whatever Grandma is "pushing" that day. You want to savor a chocolate-chip cookie made by someone that has made so many she is The Cookie Lady. You want to fall asleep in a quilt that has been washed so often it's as smooth as silk. You want to spend time with these great-grandparents that love each and every one of their growing family.

Not only is it the love of that home, it's also the quintessential small-town America feeling that makes Buffalo my happy place. Everyone knows everyone. They have dirt roads. They do have some nice amenities: a small grocery store, community center, a few churches, a nice bar. And Hazel's Cafe, yet only for another few weeks. It's closing this month and I am bummed. (Perhaps Greg and I should buy it and cook hotdishes and burgers and bars for farmers and locals for the rest of our lives?)

Granted, the times we have been to Buffalo in the last years have been spring, summer and early fall. And well, you just can't beat that scenery. Blue skies, open fields, air so crisp you can't help but fill your lungs. It's gorgeous.

Buffalo is special. We love the people, the scenery. And last year we buried our daughter in the Buffalo cemetery, next to her uncle. It may sound odd to say, but that's the icing on the cake. It reminds me that we will always, no matter what, have a deep connection to this small town in eastern North Dakota.

It's my happy place.



-Heather