All Posts

You knew you were home when the smell hit you—that thick, briny mix of crab factory and salt marsh that people from away always wrinkled their noses at. But to us? That was the perfume of summer mornings, of possibility, of here . You'd wake up to it drifting through the screen door, mixing with the distant wail of the shipyard whistle calling the shift change, a sound so regular you could set your watch by it. Your daddy swept ashes there. His daddy before him. The shipyard