We went out to breakfast this morning, to a little place in a strip mall, in the middle of a not very upscale neighborhood.

We hadn't done that in a while, and, maybe because it's summer, and I still work with students, I was in a holiday mood.

I noticed a tall pine, across the street from the restaurant, and then the sky, and the mountains in the distance, and it occurred to me that I was having a "vacation experience" in my own town.

Do you know what it's like, when you're traveling, and find yourself in a strange town on a clear, bright morning? That feeling of freedom, the tendency to notice little things, to be surprised by what the locals find ordinary?

G.K. Chesterton wrote a story about a man who walked around the world, just to be able to approach his own home with the eyes of a stranger.

That's what happened to me, this morning.

Next time, I'm going to see if I can do it on purpose.