There’s something so enticing about a clean slate, the option to start anew. Each season is a clean slate for me, a movement towards to the future. But sometimes, I actually stop and notice the present.
I’ve passed by this sign, probably, a thousand times in the past decade, but today I stopped and took a photo. I thought to myself, if I ever have a little country store in the hills, with yarn and old books and limitless cups of coffee, I’d use a sign like this. But what would it say?
All are welcome?
Would it be one of my Celtic or Ashkenazi surnames?
Would it be my own name?
I’ve changed the name of my crochet and knit design business a couple of times, always choosing versions of my own name, because then I didn’t have to pay to register it with the state. But what if the slate was clean? Who would I be?
What would you write on this sign, along the wooded roadside?